


The NSFW Alphabet {Javier Escuella x Reader}

by TheViperQueen



Series: The NSFW Alphabet {RDR2-Style} [1]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, M/M, NSFW ABCs, NSFW Alphabet, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2019-11-14 05:57:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 36,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18046820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheViperQueen/pseuds/TheViperQueen
Summary: We're working our way steadily through the NSFW Alphabet, with bonus accompanying ficlets!Updated as often as I can get the latter done, as writing shorter works is actually harder for me than monster-sized fics lol. Most ficlets star a gender neutral reader, though occasionally there will be gender specific fills done.Up Next:Chapter 14:Sunshine and Afterglow{Not-SFW ABCs—Nis for‘No’}There are no pressures to be found here in the dawning of this new day, no demands—external or otherwise. There’s only you and him and time made slow by this pocket of calm that you’ve created for yourselves.A modern AU in which you and your lover start your day off sweet and slow.





	1. A Lover’s Lullaby {Not-SFW ABCs—A is for ‘Aftercare’}

**Author's Note:**

> Just to forestall any questions later: no, I will not write for Micah.  
> No hate or shade to anyone who does/those that like it, but it’s just not my thing. Now don’t get me wrong, he’s a v. well written character, and I appreciate the performance and all that jazz, but he’s grimy af. Plus I’m a black chick living in a rather  _intolerant_  city so all that racist bullshit steps squarely on a rather large nerve in me (though I am  _living_  for those scenes where Charles and Javi floor his ass lol).
> 
> And no— _I do not think that people that do like him are inherently and automatically racist._  
>  I’m not getting into all the political BS on that, that’s not the goddamn hill I die on, but I don’t want any of y’all thinking that I think less of you if you like him. At the end of the day he’s just a collection of pixels, not an IRL human, and it’s not that serious  _to **me**  personally._ I am NOT trying to speak for the entirety of the black community nor do I want to; this is  _my_  personal opinion on the matter. Do what you will with that.
> 
> Alright, enough from me—(hopefully) enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > _“ **Behave** ,” you half chide, half plead. There’s a limit to everything, including how much pleasure the human body can take, and you’ve long since reached yours for the night._
> 
>   
> In which Javier gives you a bit of TLC after a night of fun. 

###  _A_ is for ‘ _Aftercare’_ (What they're like after sex)  
  


Sleepy cuddles all day, errday.

Javier always gives his all in the bedroom—doesn’t matter if it’s sweet, sinuous, so-good-you’ll-definitely-shed- _at-least_ -a-few-tears love making or hardcore breath-stealing, back-scratching, scream-your-goddamn-throat-raw fucking. Because of this he’s a v. sleepy boah afterwards, though being a gentleman through and through means he’ll get you squared away first.

If things got a bit… messy (more on that when we get to ‘C’ *wink, wink*) he’ll get you cleaned up (because lbr, your ass is gonna be too wrecked to do more than lay there like the satisfied, if sore, puddle he’s made of you). If things got a bit rough (more on that in ‘K’ and ‘T’) he’ll give you a bit of a rubdown if you want one; expect kisses and nuzzles against sore spots as well as talented hands massaging the feeling back into previously tied wrists and-or ankles. But if you don’t need anything he’s gonna pull you in close and snuggle the absolute fuck outta ya. I’m talking gentle brushing of fingers against your skin and hair, hugs and squeezes, cute lil chaste kisses to any bit of skin his lips can reach, maybe even some sleep-slurred humming if you ask for it; all the while he’ll tell you how good you did and how much he adores you.

This loveliness does have a time limit, however, as unless you’re ready for another round he’s knocking out in fairly short order. Thankfully he’s always down for a cuddle—homie has  _no_ qualms about PDA—so when you’re in need of some them Quality Cuddles™ just plop down in his lap and let him take care of you...

 

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###  _A Lover's Lullaby_

  
“You did good tonight,  _mi amor_ ,” Javier coos as he runs the damp towel over your inner thigh. His touch is gentle and light, almost too light in a way as it sets the still-sensitive muscles there to quivering again. The sight pulls a loving smile from him that’s well at odds with the stoking of the embers in his eyes.

“ _Behave_ ,” you half chide, half plead. There’s a limit to everything, including how much pleasure the human body can take, and you’ve long since reached yours for the night.

He smiles at you then and the sentiment is doused in equal parts love and pure male pride; he knows exactly what he’s done to you, and damn if he isn’t smug about it. He concedes to your wishes with a promise to  _“–be good”_  and the kiss he presses onto your hip afterwards is chaste indeed.

Once you’re all cleaned up he slides into bed beside you. Sheets rustle and limbs are repositioned until you’re in your preferred embrace for sleep. Callused fingers trail over every bit of skin they can reach causing goosebumps to rise in their wake, but despite the slight tickle the motion is a soothing one. Sweet nothings and words of praise alike waft over you though it’s not long before they begin to slur under the weight of his sleep. With slumber this close at hand English quickly fades from his lexicon leaving only the sinuous sounds of his mother tongue, but even that isn’t to last.

When your own body finally gives into the pull of your exhaustion it is the steady sounds of his breaths that lull you into sleep.


	2. “You have no idea…” {Not-SFW ABCs—B is for ‘Body Part’}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > _“You’re staring, Mister Escuella.”_   
>  _“Well you can hardly blame me, you were putting on quite a show.”_
> 
>   
> In which Javier cannot take his eyes of a rather unlikely piece of your anatomy. 

###  _B_ is for _‘Body Part’_ (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner's)

  
On himself it’s probably his hands.

They hold so much potential, so much power to both create and destroy. All of his favorite pastimes—from playing the guitar, to fiddling with his knife, to making you cry out in pleasure—all involve his hands. And, while he’s not an inherently violent man, he does like knowing that when he does have to throw down he most assuredly can. It doesn’t matter if he’s using his gun, his knife, or just his bare hands—he knows he can hold his own.

On his partner I can see it being their mouth. I headcanon him having a bit of an oral fixation—more on that when we get to his kinks—and because of that he loves watching their mouth. He can often be found staring at the object of his affection’s lips as they part around words.

Or a glass.  
Or a fork.  
Or his fingers.  
Or his cock.

Look he just likes it, okay?

Honestly that’s one sure fire way to know if he’s attracted to a person. If he’s staring at them lips, you can safely say that he wants a taste of ‘em.

 

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###  _“You have no idea…”_  
  


_Translations:  
(taken from the internet as I am not a speaker of the language; don’t @ me lol)_

  * Mierda—Shit
  * Amorcito—Sweetheart 



 

“You’re staring, Mister Escuella.”

The dazed look that left you with the impression that majority of his mind was lost to its thoughts clears up at the sound of your voice. Javier blinks hard a couple of times before a sheepish smile pulls at his lips; said smile grows in confidence when he notices the effect it has on you. His posture loosens a bit as he leans forward so that his arms can rest on the table between you.

“Well you can hardly blame me, you were putting on quite a show.”

Your brow furrows in confusion as you look down at the gun you’d been cleaning. You could understand if you’d been polishing the barrel, that at least has some implied sexual connotations—juvenile though they may be—but you were in the middle of checking over the bolt mechanism for any damage; there is  _nothing_  sexy about that. And yet the way he said it…

“If you say so,” you reply with a small shrug. You have no idea what it is he’s getting out of this, but far be it from you to stop such a ridiculously attractive man from taking his visual fill of you.

Pointedly ignoring the eyes that now roam your face without a hint of discretion, you turn back to your task. Though it takes you a few moments to get used to such unabashed attention, you soon hit your stride again. You’ve found that you prefer tending the gang’s weapon stores to many of the other assigned tasks. It’s just as monotonous as anything, yes, but also extremely fulfilling—after all, a properly maintained gun can be the difference between life and death. As you continue your work you pull your bottom lip back between your teeth. It’s a subconscious motion brought on by a particularly stubborn mixture of blood, mud, and god only knows what else that cakes the back end of Arthur’s old Springfield. While you, like everyone else, appreciate his hunting efforts in this moment you can’t help but to wish that he made less of a mess of his rifle while doing so.

_God, you’d almost think that he beat the poor animal into submission with the stock_ , you muse as you bear down a little harder with your dampened cloth. Your efforts see you sucking at your lip in frustration, the motion producing a sharp, wet sound–

“ _Mierda…_ ”

The curse is little more than a whisper, but in the relative quiet of the space you catch it easily enough. It doesn’t seem to be born of pain or frustration, but rather  _desire_  and fuck you if you know what you’ve done to induce  _that_. Confusion paints your everything as you meet his eyes once more–

–eyes that are clearly focused on the lip that is still trapped between your teeth.

And just like that it’s as if somebody has dropped the curtain to his mind to let you catch a glimpse of his inner workings.

You’ve always noticed a slight downward tilt to his gaze whenever you catch him staring—a thing that’s been happening more and more as of late—but you’ve never been able to pay it too much mind as it always becomes his immediate mission to fluster you after being made. It’s clear that Javier’s attracted to you, but instead of having eyes for the usual suspects, he seems to be especially taken with your lips. It’s with this new knowledge that you allow the bottommost one to slip from between your teeth with a deliberate slowness. A purposeful swipe of your tongue across the thing sees his own lips parting under a hard, but silent exhale, while a bite to one corner has him cursing again.

“You’re a cruel one,” he tells you, voice laced with a touch of laughter as he finally,  _finally_  pulls his eyes away. There’s a flush to his cheeks that can just be seen over the dusk of his skin and the sight sparks something inside of you—what that something is you can’t rightly say, but you do know for certain that it’s what drives you utter your reply.

“Not so cruel as you’d think, Mister Escuella.” There’s a huskiness to your voice that can hardly be mistaken and the shift has him leaning in closer to you.

“ _Oh?_ ”

“ _Mmm_. I wouldn’t be opposed to allowing you a taste—that is if you’re that way inclined.”

The chuckle he gives comes from somewhere deep in his chest and the timbre of it leaves you shivering despite the season’s heat. “Oh  _amorcito_ , you have no idea…”


	3. The Taste, the Touch {Not-SFW ABCs—C is for ‘Cum’}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > _…following the line of your jaw he works his way back until he’s able to breathe his next sentence directly into your ear:_   
>  _“On the bed, **amor** —I want to taste you.”_
> 
>   
> In which you give Javier a simple, but treasured gift only to find that he’s eager to return the favor… 

###  _C_ is for _‘Cum’_ (Anything to do with cum basically)  


  
This really could be filed under ‘D’, but since there’s a whole letter dedicated to cum…

Javier loves to taste himself.

Like if you let him cum in your mouth and then kiss him— _game fucking over_.  
If he could he’d cum again right on the spot.

He’s not even sure what exactly it is about it that does it for him, but I’ll tell ya: it’s the intimacy. Tasting himself on your tongue just drives home the fact that you like (love?) him enough to let him do that to you. In turn his kissing you after the fact reaffirms how much he likes (loves?) you. Does it exactly make sense? No, but the closeness behind the action is everything to him. It’s nothing that he actively realizes; he just knows that you licking into his mouth just moments after swallowing his seed makes him feel all warm inside—which of course means he’s ready to jump you pretty much immediately as I also headcanon that his love language runs more on the physical side of things (see ‘M’ for more on that) so use this information wisely.

Conversely he loves the taste of you.

If you’ve got a pussy he’s gonna lap up every drop of you, suck his fingers clean, and ask for more.  
If you’ve got a cock he’s going to suck you until you’re dry and panting out his name.  
Regardless of what you’re working with cum on his lips and he’ll be a happy boah.

And he will want to kiss you afterwards, so be ready for that. If it’s not your thing he’ll respect that (but that doesn’t mean he still won’t sneak you every once in a while, if only to hear your indignant squawks of protest).

Also his second favorite place to cum is across your back/stomach depending on how he’s taking you. The only driving force behind it is male pride, plain and simple. He loves to see you covered in him—it’s like he’s marking you in the most primal and sexy way possible and he’s here for that.

 

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###  _The Taste, the Touch_

 

“ _Oh God._ Fuck baby— _fuck, fuck, **fuck**!_”

Javier’s groan draws out long as he empties himself into your mouth. Your replying hum, though contented, is fueled by the want to see your man’s eyes glaze over more than anything else. You help to work him through his aftershocks with tender hands and gentle kisses, and once his breathing evens out as much as the situation will allow for you rise to standing.

Few are the number of men that don’t get off to seeing their partner swallow their cum, but fewer still are the ones that will kiss them straight after, and yet that’s exactly what Javi does. His right hand cradles the back of your head as he licks deeply into your mouth, his groans of pleasure making the kiss hard and sloppy. It’s only once you’re panting for air that he pulls away, though his lips find a new place to caress immediately after; following the line of your jaw he works his way back until he’s able to breathe his next sentence directly into your ear:

“On the bed,  _amor_ —I want to taste you.”

Your knees go weak and your breath turns shallow as your hips instinctively roll against him. The needy motion garners a dark little laugh that has you grinding against him all the more. Despite his instructions, Javi snakes a hand between your bodies to rub at your center and the feeling of those callused pads against your heated flesh is enough to leave you trembling where you stand. You grip at his shoulders as you work against each other in an effort to bring you closer and closer to the edge.

“ _Mmm_. So ready for me already,” he all but purrs as he works you over with deft fingers. “Tell me how you got this way, baby. You get off from suckin’ my cock,  _hmm?_ ”

Your response is a word so slurred that you’re not at all sure what you were going for, but you can’t focus on that, on anything other than what your man is doing to you. He knows your body so damn well and he plays it with as much precision and care as his beloved guitar. Faster than what you think should be possible you’re cumming against his hand with a sigh. Despite its suddenness the orgasm that rocks your body is of the lazy sort; it’s the kind that leaves you primed and oh-so-ready for more, which is a good thing, you realize as Javier’s tongue licks a trail through the mess you’ve made of his palm.

His eyes never once leave yours as he cleans his hand with a slowness that can only be described as excruciating. The sight is a torture of the sweetest kind as well as a sign–

This is going to be one of the best kinds of nights.


	4. One Hell of a Dream {Not-SFW ABCs—D is for “Dirty Secret”}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > _“That must’ve been one hell of a dream you were having,” they continue on, voice still laced with trace humor._   
>  _“You can say that,” he manages after a moment, earning a laugh._   
>  _“I don’t have to—your body’s saying more than enough.”_
> 
>   
> In which Javier dreams a dream that he wishes would stay just that. 

###  _D_ is for _‘Dirty Secret’_ (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

  
Javi’s p. open about all things sexual, I’d think—with his lover at least. As for how far he’ll go when talking to the other guys, I believe that’s directly proportional to how drunk he is. Luckily for his s/o his intoxication level is inversely proportional to his grasp of the English language so by the time he gets to the really juicy stuff he’s speaking exclusively in Spanish lmfao.

That being said, the one thing he’s hesitant to bring up to his boo-thang is the full extent of his exhibitionist streak.

Like yeah, if you’re with him for any extended amount of time you’ll pick up on it. Dude loves to finger fuck you in the shadows of alleyways and he’ll straight up raw you against trees just outside of camp (or in bar/club bathrooms if we’re talking modern AUs) and that’s saying nothing of how—no matter the century—he’ll purposefully make you scream loud enough to wake anyone in a twenty foot radius, dead or alive. But like, his one hidden deep-dark-and-dirty fantasy is taking you right in the middle of camp for all to see. Honestly he thinks it’s pretty fucked up of him, and he’d never act on it, but damn if it wouldn’t be the power move of the goddamn century. The gang already knows that you’re his just as surely as he’s yours, but there would be no denying it after they watch your face contort in pleasure as he slams into you.

Again, this is something he’d  ** _never_**  act on. Doing this IRL is like the least appealing thing ever, but in the confines of his head—weirdly hot.

 

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###  _One Hell of a Dream_

  
“No-no,  _amor_ , don’t look away.”

Javier’s words are more of a demand than a request, and one that he facilitates on his own with a fistful of hair. His grip is tight, but not painful—this isn’t a punishment, after all—as he lifts his lover’s head up from where it has fallen limp between their shoulders.

He can only imagine what they look like—face covered in a light sheen of sweat, mouth ajar with their moans, and flushed completely from scalp to sole. It’s a delicious sight that he revels in at every given opportunity, but the one that’s before him now is just as appealing in its own way.

The faces of his friends—no, they’re closer than that, they’re  _family_ —each reflects his love’s pleasure in different ways. Some have gone beet red with their embarrassment while others look on with rapt and unabashed fascination while others still writhe in the seats. Longing is written out clearly in their half-lidded gazes as they watch him stake his claim, as well it should be, though who they wish themselves to be in the coupling he cannot say.

He takes what is his and  _his_   _alone_  over and over again—pushing in hard, deep, and  _so damn good_  that they’re damn near crying from his efforts. He won’t stop until one and all, from his  _amor_  to the onlookers, know this one simple truth:

**_No man_** _can do what he does._

Javier shifts his lover yet again so that their back is pressed flush against his chest; one strong arm holds them in place while its opposite’s hand roams the planes of their stomach, their chest, the nest of curls between their legs that holds yet further proof of their arousal. A chorus of moans echo after his movements and his mouth twists in satisfaction at the knowledge that only some of them have come from the body he has in his grip.

“ _Tell them_ ,” he breathes into his love’s ear. “Tell them who you belong to,” he says again, louder for the crowd that sits in session around them.

The  _“You”_  that meets his ears is little more than a whimper of a sound and far too meek for his liking. He pounds into them until they’re screaming it, their broken voice bellowing out his name like a herald standing at the gates of a damned city. The sound of it is almost his undoing.

He’s close,  _so damn close_ , but he cannot— _will not_ —meet his end until his love has first fallen over the precipice. His focus tunnels as talented hands seek out every place he knows will bring them that last little burst of needed pleasure and within moments he feels the tell-tale tightening of their muscles around his cock. The end is near for both of them, just one thrust, one breath, one gasped word away–

“ ** _Cum_**.”

Like a puppet whose strings have been cut his  _amor_  collapses under the force of their orgasm and within seconds he’s following closely behind. His fingers dig into the earth beneath his hands as he wrings out every last bit of ecstasy to be had, and between his lover’s contented sighs and the moans of release coming from those around them there’s a whole hell of a lot to be found. He’s a lush in this moment, for his  _amor_ , for power—he’s drunk on it all and steadily getting drunker as the seconds tick by, which is why he doesn’t notice the stinging insect making its way towards him until it’s far too late…

 

A sharp pinch on the back of his hand has the outlaw waking with a start.

Pulsing in time with his heartbeat, it burns in a way that leaves him worried that a scorpion is indeed scurrying around in his shared bedroll, but given that his  _amor_  isn’t screaming their head off he knows his assumption must be off. It takes a few blinks for the sleep to filter out of his blood enough for him to make sense of the situation, though once he does check in he finds that his bedmate is halfway through a sentence.

“I’m sorry baby, can you run that by me again?”

“ _I said_ , sorry for pinching you, but you weren’t waking up.” He grunts at that and earns a laugh for his troubles. “That must’ve been one hell of a dream you were having,” they continue on, voice still laced with trace humor.

Flashes then, of them both laid bare and going at it in the middle of the camp for all to see. The memory leaves his cheeks flushed from an unpleasant mixture of embarrassment and shame even as his cock gives a painful throb.

Javier swallows thickly before clearing his throat—both sure signs of his discomfort, though they can just as easily be written off to his broken slumber  _thank God_. “You can say that,” he manages after a moment, earning a laugh.

“I don’t have to—your body’s saying more than enough.”

And that’s the truth and no doubt.

Heat’s pulsing off of him in waves, his breathing’s shallow, and he’s so hard he’s surprised that he hasn’t made a mess of his drawers yet; and as if all of that isn’t enough, his hands are full of… key pieces of his lover’s anatomy. Thankfully they don’t seem to be too upset by his unconscious groping of their form—if anything they sound rather amused as they continue to question him about just what dreamed scenario caused him to react in such a manner. His attempts at dodging the question are artless at best, but they don’t prod too deeply. Whether this is due to still being half sleep themselves or out of courtesy he isn’t sure, but he’ll take what he can get.

After a few long moments of silent have passed, his  _amor_  pushes their ass more fully back into his crotch with a sigh. The motion could be innocent enough, all things considered—they are still in the spooned position they fell asleep in—but the words that trail it–

“Well since we’re both up anyway…”

An unhurried hand travels down the length of his arm to rest atop the one that’s currently trapped between their thighs; gentle fingers coax him into continuing his ministrations and he’s all too ready to comply.

“It  _is_  the least you can do, havin’ woke me up and all,” they tease around a gasp of pleasure.

And to that he can only agree.


	5. Javier Escuella x Reader in: An Interesting Encounter {Not-SFW ABCs—E is for ‘Experience’}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Contains both a M!- and GN!Reader version!!***
> 
> _M!Reader:_
>
>> _“Just remember this place is special, alright?”_
> 
>   
> In which the young Mister Escuella finds himself in a most unlikely place…
> 
> _GN!Reader:_
>
>> _The man that has been holding up the bar’s back end for the better part of the last half hour looks over at you with an air of disinterest that should be off-putting, but there’s something in his glace that says_ ‘Try a little harder, sweetheart.’
> 
>   
> In which a young Javier decides it’s time to get back in the saddle.
> 
>  ***Note:** The reader character in both versions works at a brothel so if the thought of that doesn’t sit well with you then this isn’t the story for you, sorry…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Edit:** While editing this post for quality control I found that the word ‘Woman’ managed to slip through the cracks—so sorry about that! It’s since been removed. Again, my apologies to anyone that slip upset; it was an honest mistake…

###  _E_ is for _‘Experience’_ (How experienced are they? Do they know what they're doing?)

  
He’s had his fair share. I mean look at him. A man that gorgeous? He fucks.

He fucks  _a lot_.

I headcanon that when he was back in Mexico his lady-love there was his first and only. Boah was head over heels, writing a new ballad in her honor and subjecting everyone to it every-damn-day, _“Mama I luh her!”_ -levels of enchanted with her. They were each other’s first everything, and like the fumbling teens that they were they learned as they went. By the end of it all Javi was fairly adept at a few things (a natural affinity, I’d say), but most of his knowledge was her-centric, ya know? It wouldn’t be ‘til much later that he learned how to adapt it to other women.

After he fled to the US he obviously wasn’t getting any because he was more concerned with his continued survival, but even after Dutch took him in it still took him awhile to get back into the swing of things. This wasn’t because he couldn’t find someone (because lbr—honey ain’t a snacc, he a whole seven course meal), but rather because his lady still held his heart. Now idk what exactly went down between them as I’ve not actually played this game for myself (those YT Let’s Players are doing the Lord’s work), and I’ve not been able to find any vids where he speaks on it (if you know of one hit me up! please and thank), but from what I’ve gathered there may have been some level of betrayal there. Without getting too deep into my thoughts on that, I will say that despite whatever went on there he was still in love with her, and when Javier Escuella loves he loves with his whole being. It wasn’t until him and Abigail became a thing that he realized that sex didn’t have to be equated with love.

Now we’re not gonna get into  _that_  particular bit of canon right now as it’s only tangentially related to this post. Suffice it to say, while he cared about Abby dearly, he knew he wasn’t in love with her. She was someone safe and trusted, a part of the family they’d both been adopted into, but not so close to him that it felt weird to be with her like that. She was a pretty young thing—bright and kind and brimming with a fire that he found irresistible. She was the first woman in a long while that had stirred any type of reaction in him and he latched on to those feelings and held on tight. Conversely, Abigail never thought she was in love with him either. Javi was the only man in the gang besides Hosea and Arthur that saw beyond her profession. He always treated her kindly, never looked down on her, and most importantly  _never propositioned her_. What they had was short lived and very… _‘casual’_ isn’t the right word— _‘relaxed’,_  maybe? What I’m trying to say is there were no real commitments or expectations on either end. They enjoyed each other’s company for a few months before finally doing away with the sexual aspects of the relationship. I headcanon that they’re still close and that drives John up the fucking wall some days (it also may or may not have something to do with why he ran off after Jack’s birth, but that’s a story for another day).

So yeah, after all that, his sex drive came back online and he was surprised to find that it was just as high as it had been when he was a rowdy kid. It took a bit, but eventually he started actually taking the guys up on their offers of joining them at saloons and brothels—though once they realized just how magnetizing he could be when he turned on the charm they regretted the decision lmao. Though Abigail certainly taught him a few things, the bulk of his sexual education came from these visits; the talented working girls were more than thrilled to teach him and he was eager to learn. Between that and the natural affinity I mentioned before, he can and will have your legs going numb in a matter of minutes.

 

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###  _An Interesting Encounter {M!Reader Version}_

**_Note: Again, the reader character in this story is a working boy, a.k.a a prostitute, so if the thought of that doesn’t sit well with you then this isn’t the story for you._ **

**_Translations:  
_** _(Google Translate potentially fucking up one simple word? It’s about as likely as you think…)_

  * Burdel—Brothel



 

_“Just remember this place is special, alright?”  
_Bill’s words echo about in Javier’s head as he takes in The Rambling Rose is all its aptly named glory.

Upon first glance the place is just like any other brothel, maybe a bit fancier than most, but still—a brothel is a  _burdel_  is a cathouse at the end of the day. The floral motif carries itself through the whole of the space, and as such everything—from the plush, cherry wood furniture that dots the space to the velvet curtains that cover the windows—is one shade of red or another. Wallpaper bearing the flower in its bud state adorns the upper half of the walls while more of the dark-stained wood makes up the panels at the bottom. Overall it’s what one would expect from such a place, as are its patrons.

Being a more upscale establishment means that its clientele are dressed accordingly. Men in tailored suits and polished shoes dote over scantily clad bodies that giggle and writhe in their grips, though not all of said bodies are  _female_. And now that he’s really looking not all of the patrons are  _male_.

Suddenly the strange cadence to his friend’s voice is more readily understood, his words less cryptic. When he’d said that the place offered certain  _‘services’_  that one couldn’t readily find anywhere else he hadn’t thought much of it. Bill is, as far as the younger man knows, not overly adventurous when it comes to his dalliances— _Or so I thought. I’d assumed that he thought a lady going down on him to be a rare treat, but clearly his interests lie elsewhere…_

“So,” the man himself starts after several long seconds have passed, “what do you think?” His voice is a weird mix of his usual gruff bark and genuine unease. The combination gives the whole sentence an uncharacteristic uptick that is quickly bit off with a clearing of his throat.

_And what **do**  I think?_

Javier has to admit, even if it’s just in the privacy of his own head, that he is…  _curious_  as to what it would be like to share a night with a man. The thought had popped into his head one night after a very vivid dream involving him and John in some rather compromising (not to mention  _intriguing_ ) positions. He’d initially written it off to his guilt from having (repeatedly) bedded the object of his friend’s affections manifesting itself in an extremely strange manner, and yet he hadn’t been able to push the images out of his mind. And, after reviewing them in hopes of banishing the things once and for all, he was surprised to find that he  _didn’t want to_. The realization had shaken him to his core for several reasons, not least of all because of the phantom screams of how  _‘unnatural’_  it all was. It had taken him months to come to terms with it all, though once he did that didn’t make things any easier for him.

One of the biggest issues was all the newfound distractions.

There were many things that he started to notice that he hadn’t before such as the mesmerizing way John’s wiry muscles bunched under his shirtsleeves as he hefted something particularly heavy.  
Then there was the purely primal part of his brain that shivered whenever he thought too long on the many uses Arthur’s hulking frame and towering height could be put to.  
And of course there was the raw magmatism of their illustrious leader and the striking profile that he cut with his chiseled jawline and piercing eyes.  
Hell, even Hosea’s quiet competence, biting wit, and silver tongue held its own appeal.

These sudden spikes of  _appreciation_  could be overwhelming at times, honestly, and it was a thing that he tried his best to keep out of the forefront of his mind. Because while  _he_  might be (mostly) alright with these newfound proclivities he knew that the rest of the gang wouldn’t be nearly so understanding.

In the time since his life has become a balancing act of sorts. He’s done his utmost to keep any and all gazes as neutral as possible when dealing with the more handsome among his companions, yet at the same time he also has to be careful not to be  _too_  disconnected. Being a ‘character’, as Sean likes to call him, any deviations from his usual fare could raise flags as well. He’d thought he’d done an admirable job of it all, and yet here he is, standing in a  _burdel_  that caters to the very inclinations that he’s been denying himself of for damn near half a year now— _And with the last man I would’ve expected, but then again…_

There’s always been a fair bit of teasing directed Bill’s way concerning his tastes, but the younger man has always assumed it to be just that; often times the same jabs are directed Pearson’s way whenever the man brings up his time as a seaman (low hanging fruit that’s gone after every time, without fail) and he’s always assumed that this was just more of the same. Bill would always get especially crotchety whenever they joked about it, but that was to be expected—the man was known to fly off the handle for far lesser things than having his sexuality questioned.

_But maybe it was the seed of truth buried in the laughter that stung him the most_ , Javier thinks as he looks over at the mountain of a human at his side.

So what does he think?

“I think… this could be  _interesting_ …”

 

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“ _Oh sugar?_ ”

The sickly sweet way in which Madam Thorn calls out to you has your shoulders tensing and your brow furrowing. You know what that tone means, have been on its receiving end far too many times to mistake it for anything but what it is—a call to duty, despite it being your day off. The cushy chair that you’ve curled up in is deep in your room and facing away from the door, so as far as anyone looking in can tell the space is empty. Hoping that the logic of _‘if I_ _can’t_ _see them, they_ _can’t s_ _ee me’_ holds you stiffen up and try to keep your breaths inaudible.

Of course this doesn’t work.

The woman walks into the place like she owns it—which technically she does—and calls out your name with far more candor than her previous hail. Knowing that your discovery is now a matter of  _when_ , not  _if_  you announce your presence with a loud sigh. The laugh your defeat earns isn’t unkind, at least. The Lady of the House has enough grace about herself to allow a hint of regret to bleed through as she rounds the chair to face you.

“I know this is the last thing you want to do today–”

“But someone is in need of my expertise,” you finish for her. Thorn has always proven herself to be a fair boss, and as such there are only a few select reasons that she would ever approach one of her workers on their day off; all are valid and all always end with a little extra cash tossed their way, so while a bit miffed you’re not totally opposed to the intrusion.

A lace-covered shoulder arches upwards in a shrug. “Well you are the best with first timers, but if you’d rather I sent the ridiculously handsome, suave, sliver tongued fox that’s waiting for you to one of the others…”

Though you roll your eyes you cannot deny that your interest had been piqued. Though her description of his outward appearance is more than intriguing, it’s the phrase  _‘first timers’_  that really snares your attention.

Everyone in The Rose has their specialties. Some offer a more relationship-like experience, while others deal in fantasy, while others still offer a firmer hand. What you provide is both more targeted and broader at once in that your skill lies in helping your clients gain some measure of peace with their true selves. It’s a rare talent and one that you take care to wield with all due diligence. After all you know what it’s like to grapple with something as monumental and complex as your sexuality.

Of course within these walls yours is hardly a special story. Nearly everyone under Thorn’s employ has had to fight their own internal battles on the matter, but again—none of them can quite manage to do what you do.

Shaking away the musings you ask for the man’s name making the madam smile broadly.

“I thought that would get your attention,” she says with a laugh. “And his name is Javier, and he’s quite the charmer. I think the two of you will get on well.”

“I’m sure,” you drawl as you arch into a stretch. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to make myself presentable.”

“Of course. He’s waiting at the bar; I’ll let him know to expect you soon,” she replies, voice falling back into its normal cadence now that she’s gotten what she wants.

“Thank you. Do you happen to know what he’s drinking?”

“He’s got expensive tastes; went straight for the top shelf and got himself a bottle of Ripy’s—don’t worry, I’ll have a tray sent up. I’ll also get Sammy in here to…  _pick up_ … a bit–”

You scoff at her tone. The few misplaced books and unmade bed hardly marks your room as messy by any stretch of the imagination, though these infractions are enough to cause it to fall below the standards of what’s acceptable for client visitations. Still– “I’ll remind you that it’s supposed to be  _my_   _day off_. If I want to keep my room a little less than immaculate on my own time then that’s my prerogative.”

“Of course sugar, of course,” she agrees with a little dismissive flit of her hand that you really could do without. “Now get changed, and be quick about it. A man like that won’t stay unoccupied for long…”

 

 

You find her words to be undoubtedly true when you reach the grand staircase some fifteen minutes later.

The seemingly perpetual cloud of smoke that shrouds the main floor puts you in mins of fog, and though not quite as dense, it does make hazy specters of the people that move below. Bodies in motion set the vapor to swirling in a mildly mesmerizing display, but the years have long since worn away the sight’s veneer for you. What  _does_  catch your eye, however, is the man posted up at the bar.

His clothes are as fine as anything here— _No, **finer**  than most_, you silently amend as you take in the polished gold accents that gleam impressively under the dim lights—though it is not his attire that draws the eye, but rather the way he holds himself. There’s a reason that workers and patrons alike cannot keep their eyes away from him for long and that reason is as simple as it is alluring–

Confidence.

Everything, from the way he lounges against the bar’s polished top to the tilt of his bowler, screams of a sense of self-assurance not readily found in a place like this. Oh arrogance there is aplenty, but the markers of insecurity found in the men who so often feel the need to lord their accomplishments—be those perceived or no—over others to feel superior are absent.  _This_  man, this Javier, seems content with whom and what he is, even as he stands in a place that has the potential to challenge his perceptions of both society and himself, and  _fuck_  if that isn’t sexy.

_And magnetizing_ , you amend as you take in the gaggle of workers, both male and female, that surround him. There’s true amusement to be found in the wry twist of your lips as you watch them turn their charms on him; a gentle caress at his arm, a sentence whispered in his ear, a giggle that while unheard from this distance is clearly a touch too loud—one and all they’re laying it on  _thick_. And with good reason, you suppose, as what you can see of his face is striking indeed.

A strong jaw, full lips, lush dark locks, and skin rich enough to rival the intoxicating draw of the drink in his glass.

Currently said drink is being twirled around in its tumbler as he listens to one of Charlotte’s anecdotes, most likely the one about the time she was mistaken for the Duchess of some small country or another. His head is turned towards her—meaning it’s facing away from you—and you can just make out the way the corner of his mouth has lifted in an amicable smile. Delighted to have his full attention, if only for the moment, the blonde’s demeanor is more animated than usual; she talks with her hands (that often find a reason to stray to his person) and bounces a bit when she gets to a more jovial bits of her tale. She must have been at it for a while as her story reaches its end some odd seconds later and everyone bursts into a fit of giggles as expected; it is an amusing story, after all, if often told.

As they all continue to laugh Javier allows his attention to drift once more. The dancefloor seems to hold little appeal for him, and the darkened coves built for lovers less so. Restless eyes look for some new sight to occupy themselves with, and you’re surprised to find yourself the center of his focus— _Though you really shouldn’t be_ , a distant part of your brain comments,  _you are perched atop the staircase. **Dead center** , I might add; he’s probably not the only one looking. And that’s saying nothing of the way you’ve been staring him down. One could call it ‘ **relentless** ’ and not be considered at all wrong…_ A flush creeps up your neck then as the whole of the situation starts to register in full and you can only hope that the poor lighting makes it indistinguishable from your natural complexion.

Though covered by his hat’s brim you can almost feel the curiosity radiating from his stare, and like a deer whose eyes are fixed on those of their hunter’s, you find yourself pinned in place by it. What had started off as a friendly smile pulls back more and more until you’re met with a smirk that only serves to make him all the more enigmatic and you all the more taken. The strange and silent exchange lasts for several long seconds and is only broken when he lifts a hand to lazily push his bowler back. The chocolate drop eyes that are revealed catch what little light there is to be had, and in them you see a mixture of emotions.

More of that curiosity, amusement,  _lust_ …

The latter leaves you biting at your bottom lip without wanting and  _that_  has his breath catching. It’s a subtle thing and done so quickly that had you not been watching him so intently you probably would have missed it. This break in his cool demeanor is just the thing you need to get your feet back under you. Brow arched and a smirk of your own in place you regard him with the aplomb that you usually affect, and while you’re not entirely sure what to expect from him the wink and inviting nod is much welcomed.

As you both stride towards each other with firm, sure steps you just know that this night is going to be a most interesting one indeed.

 

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###  _An Interesting Encounter {GN!Reader Version}_

**_Note: Again, the reader character in this story works at a brothel meaning they’re a prostitute, so if the thought of that doesn’t sit well with you then this isn’t the story for you._ **

 

“Heya, handsome—want some company?”

The man that has been holding up the bar’s back end for the better part of the last half hour looks over at you with an air of disinterest that should be off-putting, but there’s something in his glace that says  _‘Try a little harder, sweetheart.’_

Or maybe that’s just your years of experience talking.

The slight tilt of his head is an invitation to sit, an offer to continue this chase that you’ve unwittingly become a part of. Of course with the trade you ply you’re no stranger to approaching men, but usually even the cockiest among them don’t take much more prodding than a word and a wink—but this man,  _this man_ …

It’s clear that he wants to be pursued, to be wanted, to be the sole focus of your desire and dammit if he isn’t drawing you in.

He’s an enigma wrapped up in a very pretty package. Everything, from his crisp white shirt to his polished gold-capped boots speaks of not only wealth but a sense of confidence that you’ve not often seen inside these walls. Arrogance is in a rather unfortunate abundance amongst The Rambling Rose’s clientele, but unlike those men he doesn’t feel the need to tout his accomplishments—be those imagined or otherwise—for validation. He knows who and what he is and the shadow-cast eyes that sit underneath his low slung bowler invites you to find out exactly what that is for yourself.

As you slide onto the high stool next to him the bartender pours you a measure of what he’s drinking—Ripy’s bourbon, you discover as the amber-hued liquid flows over your pallet, top shelf stuff. The sip goes down smooth, but tracking eyes makes the familiar whisper of a burn feel all the more intense. His gaze seems to be fixed on the curve of your lips, and having long since learned to take every advantage presented to you, you decide to put on a bit of a show for the man. Your tongue peeks out to collect an imagined drop on your bottommost lip before capturing the thing in a slow scrape of teeth; all the while you keep your own gaze hidden behind lashes as you look down at your now half empty glass. When your eyes do finally cut over to him at your display’s end you find that he’s pushed his hat back to regard you more fully.

“Seems as if you know the fastest way to a man's heart,” he says with a touch of husk coating his pleasantly accented voice.

The corners of your lips turn up into a smile as you turn in your seat to face him. “There’s no real use for hearts in a place like this, sir, but I could do with a name.”

Your words earn you not only a name— _“Javier,”_  he tells you in a purr that has you biting down on a shiver—but a laugh as well.

You return the courtesy as you prop an elbow on the bar’s top; your head comes down to rest its weight against your waiting hand as you look him over and just as you expect he preens under your conspicuous assessment—a strong jaw, full lips, lush dark locks, and skin rich enough to rival the intoxicating draw of the drink that fills your glasses. Overall he is, without a doubt, one of the most handsome men you’ve ever seen and you can only hope that by your encounter’s end you’ll have a new regular.

For his part Javier takes your measure just as readily and you have to force yourself not to change your relaxed pose. Never before have you ever been this worried about what a patron thought of you with the logic being that they’re here to purchase a service; if you’re not what they’re in the market for there’s no need to be offended, you’ll both just move on to the next, but  _this man_ … You know nothing about him aside from his name which is more than likely a fake as one of his friends is going about calling himself  _Tacitus fucking Kilgore_  and that’s a goddamn alias if you’ve ever heard one.

“Like what you see?” he asks after a few moments.

“I do,” you admit, “as do many,  _many_  others, I’m sure, but I must say—you look a bit lost, darling. Is this your first time in a bordello?” Given your rough guess of his age it’ll be more than surprising if your words are proven true— _But there is indeed a first time for everything_ , you silently amend when you notice the way his expression falters.

His eyes drop down to his glass and, after draining it of the last of its contents he finally replies with a, “It is, yeah.”

“I see. I take it that your friends are the only reason you’re here now?” You’d seen the group of men he’d come in with; they varied in age from the distinguished man that looked old enough to be all of their fathers, to the hoarse voiced kid that looked barely old enough to be in a place like this. One and all they had found someone to pair off with, but Javier had headed straight for the bar—rebuffing advances all the while. This was part of the reason you’d come to him, actually. Aside from the potential chiding you’d get for not at least making an attempt, the Lady of the House had told you that you had a gift for seeing into the heart of people. You’ve been known to soften up even the gruffest of patrons before allowing them to harden under your touch once more.

“Sometimes it’s just easier to go with it, you know?” he says, chuckling a bit.

“I do,” you agree, laughing some yourself. “I would ask why you’ve not been in a place like this before, but a man like you has to have women following after him in droves–” His snort has you amending your statement. “ _Ahh_ , so you’re only concerned with the one then. You know, most of our clients are supposedly madly in love with their other halves, but you seem to be truly so which makes me wonder just why you’re here instead of lying in the arms of the one that you really want…”

“Let’s just say you’re not the first person I’ve met that has no use for hearts.”

Despite his neutral tone his words carry all the sting of a slap and you find yourself internally cringing.  _So much for my so called ‘gifts’…_

Fortunately he seems to have come to some sort of terms with his heartbreak, and when he orders another round it’s for two. Years of training has you smoothing over the faux-pas quickly and the following conversation goes much more smoothly. Javier talks a fair bit, and yet he somehow manages to say nothing with any real worth. It’s a skill that courtesans and outlaws alike share, and you have to assume that both him and his friends fall firmly into the latter category. Though they’re all just as dapper as he, there’s a roughness about them that cannot quite be shaken off. Of course you don’t give voice to your silent observations, choosing instead to smile and nod and look pretty as is expected.

As the minutes pass into an hour you can feel the eyes of Madam Thorn burrowing into the back of your head. While customer satisfaction is monumental, this is still a cathouse and at the end of the day the goal is to make money— _“And we make our money by lying on our backs, not sitting on our asses.”_

The memory of her quipping words is followed closely by yet another phantom remark:

_“Seal the deal or cut him loose.”_

That she’s not intervened as of yet is testament to just how much cash their ringleader—one mister Aiden O’Malley—is dropping, but even that has its limits when you could be making more of the stuff with a customer outside of his little party.

The invitation you extend to Javier is a subtle one, and for the first time in a long time you have absolutely no idea how the man across from you will respond—and if the conflicted look in his eyes is anything to go by neither does he. Thankfully your words are easily stepped around, things to be ignored and forgotten if so chosen, and that’s just what you’re ready to do as silence and seconds both stretch on uncomfortably long. But just before you can make your excuses and move on to the next man he catches your hand. Time seems to slow as he draws the thing up to smiling lips; said smile slowly pulls off into a smirk as the effect that his bold move garners registers.

“Lead the way,” he purrs as he pulls you both from your stools.

No more words are exchanged as you navigate the throng that separates you from your chambers, though one musing rises above the cacophony that is your jumbled thoughts–

_My, but this is going to be **interesting** …_ 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So in the GN!Reader version, Javier isn’t exactly the super suave dude that we all know and love. In this fic I picture him being p. young (20-21) and still a bit hung up over his ex. Like I said in the HC, him and Abby had become a thing, and while his outlook on love, sex, and romance have since shifted this is the first time he’s doing something like this and putting yourself out there in such a manner can be unnerving to say the least. He’s fine when it comes to the chase/flirting, but once things get to the main event he finds himself wavering a bit. The genuine interest Reader has shown draws him in, but the distance they maintain ( _“There’s no real use for hearts in a place like this, sir…”_ ) helps him reaffirm the disconnect he’s created between what the heart wants, the soul craves, and the body’s needs. Of course in the end he seals the deal—and with the flair we expect at that.
> 
> Conversely, in the M!Reader version he’s older (I put this fic at like a year or so before the events of RDR2) and has long since gotten over his long lost lover. His struggle is now with this new facet of himself that isn’t exactly a ‘good look’ to have in the 1890s. So while he’s suave af, he’s still living that Struggle Life™.
> 
> Okay, that’s enough of me defending my characterization to people who more than likely don’t care lmao…


	6. Sealed with a Kiss {Not-SFW ABCs—F is for ‘Favorite Position’}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > _“You realize that we’re literally on some Netflix’n’chill shit, right?”_   
>  _“ **Hulu.** ”_   
>  _“ **Whatever.** ”_
> 
>   
> A modern AU in which a glitched out app turns the night into the sweetest of clichés.  
> (This one’s ficlet's got some H/C-ish vibes like??? I did not see that coming, but I’m here for it.) 

 

###  _F_ is for _‘Favorite Position_ _’_ (This goes without saying.)

Probably having you bouncing in his lap, specifically with you facing him. It lets him get in deep plus it gives him easy access to your lips, nips, and he can grab on to them hips lol. Rhyming aside, he loves the intimacy of having his arms wrapped around you, chests pressed together, breaths mingling, hooded eyes fixed on one another. By his estimation there’s little else better in the world than looking deep into your eyes as he watches you come undone. Plus kisses. ‘Member what I said about the oral fixation earlier (see ‘B’ for more on that)? Yeah, this man _cannot_ get enough of your mouth. Kiss him, nip at his jaw, suck on his neck—bonus points for showing his scar some attention! It’s weirdly sensitive despite it having healed a long time ago.

Though if he’s feeling himself he’ll go for a good ol’ hip-slappin’ doggie sesh. He loves having his hands on your hips, his words breathed against your neck or directly into your ear as he just lays into you. Plus he gets to watch your ass jiggle with the force of his thrusts. Plus, plus he can also lay a few slaps on dat ass—by your leave, of course. Plus, plus, plus— _hair pulling_. There’s just something about the silhouette the pair of you cut when he’s got a handful of your hair that he finds just **_UNF_** _._ Like he’ll take a fistful and pull enough to make you raise your head until your spine arches away from him and your arms lock, and all the while his other hand is digging into your hip and that’s just so goddamn sexy to him—god, he could stare at you all damn day–

Look, just give this man a mirror to fuck in front of, that’s all I’m saying. You’ll both thank me later lol.

Missionary rounds out his top three, because again—intimacy. At the end of the day Javi’s a giver, but he also wants to be loved in return. He doesn’t need a bunch of lavish gifts (though he would never turn down a new scarf or hat), he just wants you, close, be that sexually or not. Please shower this man in as much care and affection as he gives you. It’s what he wants, what he needs, what he goddamn deserves!

Straighten out his neckerchief!  
Brush that stray piece of lint off of his shoulder!  
Push rogue hairs back behind his ear!  
Smooch his cheeks!  
Let him know how much you fucking adore him!  
…Wait this was supposed to be about sex!

Uhh…

Cup his cheek as he thrusts into you!  
Run your hands over the flexing muscles of his back and pull him in close!  
Let him rest his forehead against yours and stare into the chocolate depths that are his eyes!  
You can still push those rogue hairs back, I mean it won’t do much good, but dammit it’s the thought that counts and the sentiment behind the motion is sweet and he loves it so much so fucking go for it!  
Tell him how much you love him! And his cock! He will always accept compliments on his prowess!!

_Ahem_.  
So TL;DR—it really it just depends on his mood, but you in his lap* (Is there a name for this? Probably. Do I know it? _*Drake nah hand*_ ), doggie, and missionary are his go-tos.  
Also he's a soft boah deep down and he should be showered in all of the love and affection always and forever.

*It’s since been brought to my attention that this could be considered the cowgirl position, but like is it truly cowgirl if he’s sitting up? I know that sounds like a silly question, but it just feels like a different position to me. More research that won’t be done because I’m a lazy fucker is needed lol...

 

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###  _Sealed with a Kiss_

“You realize that we’re literally on some Netflix’n’chill shit, right?” Your statement is laced with mirth and pleasure both as you end your downward push into your man’s lap with a grind.

“ _Hulu_.”

“ _Whatever_ ,” you give right back, an actual laugh breaking though. “Still think you planned this, by the way.”

For Javi’s part he just shrugs as best he can with your hands anchored on his shoulders. “Not my fault it glitched out.”

The _‘Mmmm’_ you give is extremely unconvinced, but the hand that has snaked its way under your top keeps you from dwelling on your disbelief for too long. The scrape of his calluses over the sensitive buds there leave you arching into him and he’s quick to use this to his advantage. When he’s in you like this he loves to be as close as possible, and to this end his free hand curves around your hip to pull you in further before the whole arm slings lazily across your lower back to hold you in place. This restricts your movements, of course, only allowing you to grind into him, but _shit_ that’s good too.

Your forehead drops down to rest somewhere between his head and shoulder and you can just feel the thick line that is his scar against your own skin. It’s a physical manifestation of another’s hate for the man that you adore more than anything. The thought that he could’ve easily been taken away from you before you’d even met always leaves your chest seizing up, but you fight against it—the pain, the panic, the indignant rage that ever echoes a memory that you’ve never lived in the only way you know how. Kisses, soft and slower than even the lazy pace Javier has set, follow the line’s too long length from one end to the other. The hips that work against yours stutter as you suckle at the section nearest the bobbing knot in his throat. He swallows thickly before lifting your head until your eyes meet. What you see in his endless brown depths is a love just as deep and you know that in your own its overwhelming truth is reflected back at him.

In moments like this he believes that words so often ring hollow, so instead of further filling the air, Javier kisses you. Your lips part under his without hesitation and you sigh when you feel his tongue against yours. He says more with this meeting of flesh, this chorus of shared breaths than he feels he ever could with just his words alone.

_I love you._  
_I need you._  
_I want to stay by your side as long as you’ll have me—please, let me stay._

Your reassurances come in the form of gentle hands cupping his face, your thumbs stroking his sweat-damp cheeks as your foreheads come to rest against one another.

_I love you too._  
_Will always want you, always **need** you._  
_I know you won’t go and I promise I’ll never send you away._

You push loose, inky locks away from his face and the motion sets his lips to curving in contentment and his eyes to fluttering close once more. When heavy lids finally part for you, there’s a heat to be found in his gaze that’s all too familiar. The steady stoke of flames speak of a night that won’t see its end for a long while yet, and that’s just fine by you.


	7. Javier Escuella x GN!Reader in: Kiss it Better {Not-SFW ABCs—G is for ‘Goofy’}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > His head tilts back until it’s resting on your shoulder, the candlelight’s flicker in his eyes mimics the lust that dances just behind their depths. With deliberate slowness he brings his bandaged fingers up to your cheek before making one simple request:
>
>> “Kiss them better, amor.”
> 
>   
> In which a day involving fake birthdays, one too many beers, a game of five-finger fillet, and _that damned candle_ leads to a most interesting night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Note: Javi’s drunk in this one, though not so drunk that he cannot give consent. I know that this is a touchy subject with some of you for various reason, but I fall on the side of the line of discussing things well beforehand and going from there. People get drunk and fool around with their s/o’s all the time (be that with one or both parties being sloshed), it’s really not that big of a deal if you’ve already laid out ground rules well in advance. And, despite what movies may have led some of you to believe, there are different levels of drunk. Yes, there is a point of intoxication where one can no longer be trusted to make even the simplest, most innocent of decisions— _ **this character is not at that point.**_ Javier can still talk, he can still say _‘No.’_ with all needed conviction, force, and clarity. That being said, I know that something like this could easily be a trigger for some people, so please if this content makes you uncomfortable for any reason at all then please, _please_ do what you need to in order to keep yourselves whole…)
> 
> Now that we’ve gotten the PSA stuff out of the way…
> 
> I had WAY too much fun writing the fic for this one as I’m sure you’ll be able to tell from its length lol. I just love slice-of-life type deals that involve the whole of the gang being the big, dysfunctional family that they are—you could fight me about it, but I’d much rather just talk about it at length lol…

__

###  _G is for Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)_

It honestly depends.

If he’s drunk then he’s all slurred quips and giggles and sloppy kisses.  
If you’re having a bad day he’s attentive and caring, stroking your hair and praising you until all the things that are causing you grief are totally eclipsed by the pleasure coursing through your system. Same goes for if you’re just looking for a gentler touch.  
But if you’re looking for something rougher he’ll go full dom on your ass, and while not a mean one (*cough* _like Dutch_ *cough*) he’ll not hesitate to assert his authority—but more on that when we get to his kinks ;)

But if we’re talking about his usual fare, I think he’s more on the dom-side still, but a teasing one. He won’t deny you, but he will make you work for it (providing he isn’t the one in dire straits lol). Lots of praise with a few quips thrown in for flavor, but mostly he just wants to get you both off and he’ll do whatever it takes to drive you over the edge.

* * *

__

###  _Kiss it Better_

**_Translations:  
_ ** _(Idk if Google can mess up single words, but *Kanye shrug*)_

  * Mierda—Shit
  * Guapo—Handsome



 

“What are we celebrating again?” you ask no one in particular from your place around the fire.

This not-so-little party had already been in full swing when you and Arthur had come back from town on a mail run and for the life of the pair of you neither one could figure out what was going on. Your friend had just shrugged before grabbing up a beer and joining in the fray, and seeing no reason not to you followed suit.

That was well over five minutes ago and in the time since you’ve still yet to figure out what the hell the occasion is.

You don’t really expect an answer as most are either too drunk to take note of your relatively quiet inquiry or touting their merriment elsewhere, but Tilly isn’t so deep in her cups that she cannot respond.

“Uncle’s birthday,” she tells you, holding up the white-frosted slice to further prove her point. Your confused reply of _‘Again?’_ leaves her giggling. “Well he says he don’t know how much longer he got so he wants to have as many birthdays as possible in the meanwhile.”

You chuckle a bit even as you shake your head. “I can’t believe Dutch is actually goin’ for this.”

“Says he doesn’t care—so long as Uncle is bankrollin’ it himself, at least.”

None of you have ever gotten a clear or full account on what exactly happened to make your leader want to keep the old lush around, but honestly you’re glad that he does. Sure he’s not the most productive member of your little family, but he is a dear part of it. He lives up to his namesake—being the uncle that everyone loves to hate most days—but he’s always there with a willing ear and an encouraging (and often times hilarious) word. He’s even been known to help out on heists occasionally, though the result of those endeavors always varies.

With a proper answer finally in hand you go over to greet the man of the hour. Unsurprisingly you find him sat in the shade of Pearson’s workstation with the man himself, Miss Grimshaw, and Hosea. Strauss’ presence is a bit more surprising, the man rarely leaves his tent for anything not related to his work, but it’s nice to see him socializing more—even if his brand of the action involves watching others do all the talking while studiously making his way through a slice of cake.

Your well wishes are met with more vigor than the ‘Birthday Boy’ (as Uncle insists on calling himself every time he pulls this particular stunt) usually dares to show; he rises from his seat with a whoop of glee only to stumble into you. He thanks you profusely before shouting to the men at your back, “Now _this_ is how yer supposed’ta treat yer elders, ya irreverent welps!”

“Better be careful, teachin’ him all those big, fancy words, Hosea,” Sean comments from where he’s taken Karen up in some approximation of a waltz. “One of these days the old langer’s gonna choke on ‘em.” And at that you all have to laugh.

“Where’s that man of yours?” Uncle asks as he ambles back over to his seat. “I feel a song comin’ on, an’ I needs his expertise.”

“He’s still on guard duty,” you tell him. You’d seen a rather off-put looking Javier on your way in; clearly he wasn’t at all happy about being stuck keeping watch while the rest got to enjoy the party.

“I think I’ll go relieve him.” Several pairs of eyes turn towards Hosea then making the older man grin. He lifts his arms into a stretch as he tells you all, “I could do with a bit of exercise.”

Susan snorts. “You mean you can do with some _quiet_ and I don’t blame you.” The annoyance in her voice is undercut by the fond way she looks over the camp’s inhabitants. Her offer to join the patriarch is accepted with a smile and, after collecting a couple of repeaters, the pair head off for the border.

Several minutes later Javier enters the party with a cackle that can be heard clear across camp, and within short order he has a drink in one hand and the curve of your hip in the other. Songs are indeed sung to his guitar’s plucked tunes, but as the night wears on he abandons the thing in favor of socializing. As drinks and laughter continue to flow freely he eventually decides that challenging anyone who will have him to a game of five-finger fillet is a great idea. Not really in the mood to watch two grown (and fairly drunk) men potentially slice their hands to ribbons you wander back to the fire. By now most people have entered the _‘too drunk to be too rowdy’_ stage and have settled down in one place or another. Several are around the fire, though only Charles and Mary-Beth still seem sober enough to offer good company. You all talk about the usual sundry as you listen to the snores, fire crackles, and crickets that blanket the night for a several long moments, but then–

“ _¡Mierda!_ Fuck-shit-fuck!”

The group’s eyes all wander over to the table that holds a still cursing Javier and a cackling Bill. The former turns his ire on the latter, but his anger doesn’t shake the larger man. Knowing that the situation needs to be defused quickly you rush over to your man’s side, and thankfully it doesn’t take much prompting to get him to come with you back to your shared tent. From there you light a well-used candle before pulling together the stuff you’ll need to treat his newest set of wounds.

“I’m drunk,” Javi tells you miserably as he flops down onto his bed roll.

“I know, baby.”

“And _Marion’s_ an ass.”

“I know,” you say again, finally allowing yourself to laugh a bit. “Now come here, _guapo_ —hands in the light so I can see.”

Upon inspection the damage done is blessedly minor; all of the cursing, he admits, was actually caused by a mixture of his intoxication and anger at having been bested by someone whose knife wielding skills he considers to be far beneath his own. Nevertheless you clean and bandage what few cuts there are with minimum complaints from your man. His pouty silence, however, is just as unwanted as his whining would have been.

“Come on lover, none of that,” you coo as you move behind him. Sitting with your feet tucked under you, you rub a bit at his shoulders, but the stubborn hunch of them won’t be so readily eased. When a few well-placed kisses to his neck and jaw don’t see him softening you burrow your face into the crook of his neck. “Why’re you being so mean?”

“I’m mad.”

“At me?”

“Yes.”

“What? _Why?_ ”

“…I don’t know,” he admits, a burble of laughter escaping him at last. “But I do know how you can make it up to me.”

You already have a good idea of where this is going—suggestion is as heavy in his words as his now slumped body is against yours. Still you feign ignorance for his sake. The _‘Oh?’_ you give is an overly coquettish thing and had he been even a touch more sober he would’ve laughed, but drunk Javier always thinks himself to be much more suave than he truly is. He takes your tone at face value as his uninjured hand reaches back to stroke at your thigh. His head tilts back until it’s resting on your shoulder, the candlelight’s flicker in his eyes mimics the lust that dances just behind their depths. With deliberate slowness he brings his bandaged fingers up to your cheek before making one simple request:

“Kiss them better, _amor_.”

Your smile dips into something darker as you cup his hand in yours. “I can do that.”

Of course the relatively chaste act soon morphs into something quite other and before you know it you’re draped across a giggly mess of a man making out like you’re a couple of teenagers. His kisses are hardly the works of art he usually bestows upon you, but there’s something special to be found in the sloppy kisses he drags across you face and neck. In moments like these you can almost pretend that your lives are something other than what they are; you’re not two outlaws whose existences are at the mercy of fate’s draw, but rather two lovers whose only concern is the other’s next breath, laugh, and sweet sound of pleasure.

Your hands are in Javi’s hair while his can’t seem to leave your ass—not that you’re complaining. With every squeeze, slap, and caress you feel your hunger for him growing bit by bit until it’s all you can think about. It’s nice, fooling around like this, but you know that he’s going to want his ever-growing budge seen to sooner rather than later—and, though you know you’ll be the one doing the heavy lifting tonight, you’re all too ready to oblige.

It’s with eager fingers that you undo the buttons of his pants. He tries to return the favor, but he only manages to get one undone halfway before flopping backwards with a defeated sigh and a declaration that the inventor of buttons is an evil bastard that has never had a good lay in his life. The passion he throws behind the words leaves you both laughing even as you work at the things.

Javier’s hand finds a new way to entertain itself as you continue to tend to your pants and you must say that you approve. Scarred fingers disappear past the band of his drawers to grip at his cock and the breathy little moan he gives at the contact is all the encouragement you need to speed things along. As soon as you get all of the infernal little pieces of metal undone you rise up more fully so that you can both pull the offending items off and away, but before you can get your pants even halfway over your ass a familiar voice stops you cold.

“For the love of god blow out that damn candle ‘fore you traumatize us all!” Arthur yells as he throws something at the side of your tent.

“Or don’t,” Micah adds in, a hard laugh cutting though his words. “Ol’ Bill here’s been gettin’ the show of a lifetime. We all know it don't take much for him to blow his load. Jus’ give him a few more seconds, that’s all he needs—ain’t that right, Marion?”

The sound of a rather large, rather meaty fist making contact with what one can only assume to be a jaw sounds out over a snarl of, “ _Oh fuck you, Bell!_ ”

“ _Goddammit_. Well don’t just sit there, John—help me break these two fools up before they end up in the fuckin’ fire pit!”

“I say we give it a few minutes,” Lenny comments. “I wanna see how this’ll end.”

Marston puts his money on Bill while Uncle wakes himself from his drunk just long enough to declare this to be best birthday yet.

In this moment there’s so much to unpack and you don’t know what the fuck to do with most of it, but thankfully there’s a distraction brewing inside of your tent. The events outside of the space haven’t dissuaded your man in the least. His pants are gone and in short order yours are too, and for a while you can’t think of much else besides the body that shifts in time with your own.

It’s only once you’re lying sated and sweaty across Javier’s chest that you realize you never did blow that damned candle out.


	8. Attention to Detail {Not-SFW ABCs—H is for ‘Hair’}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > _“Hey babe, I’m about to make some lunch—you want–”_   
>  _The rest of the sentence dies on your lips as the hastily opened door reveals a sight far more delicious than anything your kitchen holds. ___  
> 
> 
>   
> A modern AU where Reader shows Javi just how much they appreciate his attention to detail. 

__

###  _H is for Hair (How well-groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)_

I believe that it’s generally accepted that Javier is one of the cleaner—if not the cleanest—members of the gang and I absolutely agree. Dude takes great pride in his appearance, and I humbly thank both him and R* for blessing us so. They didn’t have to go that hard, but they did. They’re doing the Lord’s work.

_Ahem_.  
Anyways.

He likes to look good both in and out of his clothes, so to that end I think he keeps everything nice and tidy down there. Not completely hairless because ain’t nobody got time for that, but it’s cropped down as low as he can get it with scissors. What hair is left is soft enough that he’s not worried about the near-stubble length of it irritating his s/o.

And yes, the carpet does indeed match the drapes—both in the yeehaw days and in modern times. I just don’t see Javi as ever being the type to dye his hair. He loves how the darkness of it is in such stark contrasts with his complexion; he knows it’s damn sexy and sets his features off like whoa. He also prefers to keep his hair—the drapes, I mean lol—on the longer side for this same reason. He knows he looks good with short hair, but he looks  _damn_  good with something chin length or longer (plus he really likes the feeling of his s/o’s fingers tangling themselves in his locks while he goes down on them or fucks them).

Also in any and all modern AUs that I write he does not have that weird middle shave ‘stache deal because why is that even a thing??? A friend of mine said R* did that to nerf his raw sex appeal and I’m inclined to agree lmao. Even they knew that their creation was just too powerful, too damn beautiful, and that combined with all the other babes in the game—well they were just trying to look out for us, guys.

* * *

__

###  _Attention to Detail_

**_Translations_ ** _:  
(Yo no hablo Español, so if this is wrong take it up with Google, my dudes)_

  * Amorcito—Sweetheart



 

“Hey babe, I’m about to make some lunch—you want–”  
The rest of the sentence dies on your lips as the hastily opened door reveals a sight far more delicious than anything your kitchen holds.

There, propped up against your bed’s headboard, lounges your man naked as the day he was born. With his legs crossed at the ankles and his phone held aloft it’s a fairly typical position to find him in, clothes or no. Currently said clothes are thrown over the back of a chair while he waits for the oil that is his preferred moisturizer to absorb into his skin more fully. The soft scent of sweet almond oil hangs heavy in air made humid from the last vestiges of steam seeping in from the adjoined bathroom; together the resulting cloying fog is all too inviting and you find yourself stepping more fully into the room.

For Javier’s part there’s not a hint of embarrassment to be found in his gaze as he turns his attention from his phone’s screen to you; he doesn’t even bother with trying to cover himself with the discarded towel that lays bunched at his side— _And why would he? I’ve already seen all there is to see many, **many**  times before._ Unsurprisingly the latter half of that thought sounds as if it’s been given voice by the man himself.

“I’m sorry,  _amor_ , I didn’t catch that,” he starts as he allows his arms to drop on either side of him. “You said something about lunch?”

“I did,” you say absently, voice and thoughts both miles away from anything aside from the glistening body before you.

The noonday sun that filters in through your curtains dances across the peaks and valleys of his sculpted body to cast it in golden warmth that sets him aglow. With the view no longer obstructed by raised arms and the tiny device your eyes can now follow the light whorls of hair that covers his pecks down though the dip that divides his abs and further still to the aptly named ‘happy trail’ that leads to his center. Never one to let himself go in any capacity, Javier always makes sure to keep things neat and tidy and for that you are exceedingly grateful. The close crop makes going down on him all the more enjoyable while his hair’s naturally soft texture means you don’t have to worry about any discomfort from friction. You know that he does these things for his comfort as much as yours, but even so you appreciate his efforts— _And I think that now would be a good time to show him as much._

Twin smirks are traded between the pair of you as you make your way over to the bed. Straddling him, mouths are soon put to better use as you mold your lips against one another. Javi’s hands find your hips while yours busy themselves with his still damp hair. A sharp tug to his nape has him biting off a curse even as he arches into you; his head digs back into the headboard and you take this time to leave little nips at his neck and jaw. He pulls your crotch flush against his own in response, and taking advantage of the super soft pajama bottoms you’re wearing, he guides you in a slow grind against his length. It only takes a few passes for him to become noticeably harder, a few more after that and you’re both starting to breathe a little quicker.

“Not that I’m complaining–”

“You’d better not be,” you growl playfully against his ear before capturing its lobe between your lips and sucking.

“ _Goddamn_ ,” he half sighs, half moans as he continues to rut against you. “What has gotten into you, hmm?”

“Nothing.  _Yet_.”

His laugh is breathy as he tells you, “That was Sean-levels of terrible,  _amorcito_.”

“Maybe,” you admit, “but luckily for us both my true talents lie elsewhere…” The hand that snakes down between you to grab at his cock makes it very clear exactly what those talents are.

Fully erect and beginning to weep, he feels like velvet and fire under your touch and while his moans tell you that he’ll gladly take you just like this, you know there are ways to make this all the better for him. Thankfully the bottle of oil is well within reach and your hand’s back on him before he can muster any real complaints. He slurs out your name when your now lubricated hand finds him again and he bucks up into your fist hard.

“Let me,” you insist, clenching just that bit tighter around him as an incentive to keep him still. His compliance comes in the form of an easy smile and sagging shoulders.

His lips soon find yours for a kiss that’s as lazy as your pace, with the melding only breaking for the occasional sigh, moan, or curse. The pair of you continue on like this for several long minutes, with your pace increasing as the cues of his body demands it and when he cums it’s with your name on his lips and love in his eyes.

“You never answered my question,” Javi says as you run his towel over the mess he’s made of his stomach.

You shrug a bit, though the smile that pulls at your lips undermines the lackluster gesture. “Just wanted to show my appreciation.”

“For?”

“Your attention to detail.”


	9. A Million Little Ways {Not-SFW ABCs—I is for ‘Intimacy’}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > _His love is like a living thing, so palpable and cloying that you swear you can feel its velvet touch underneath your fingertips at any given moment._
> 
>   
> In which Javi shows you just how much he cares in the best way he knows how. 

__

###  _I is for Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)_

So I’ve said before that when Javier’s in the bedroom he gives his all, and he really truly does. Body, mind, and soul—if you’re his  _amor_  then you have him totally. After everything that happened with his former lady-love he’s not one to give his heart away easily, so once it’s in your care please mind it carefully.

I imagine Javier to be the kind to be very vocal about how much he adores you, but in his experience words often ring hollow. For him love is a verb, a thing to be acted out. Everything from the casual touches, to the lingering kisses, to the surprise back hugs that he’s always pulling you into, they’re all a kind of emotional foreplay for him—just things leading up to this one ultimate expression of his love and care for you. It doesn’t matter if it’s down-‘n’-dirty fucking or tooth achingly sweet love making, he’s in it 101%. He’s a tactile creature by nature and sex is the ultimate form of physical closeness. Even if he’s got a hand pressed against your throat it’s gonna be the most loving, gentle quasi-choking you’ve ever received lmao.

He knows what it is to doubt yourself and your role in a romantic relationship and he never wants you to feel like that, so he’ll always make sure that you know where you stand. You’re his  _amor_ , his  _alma_ , and while he knows he can never truly be one with you he’s damn well gonna get as close as he can. Sex with Javier’s a goddamn spiritual experience for this very reason and no one can convince me otherwise.

Of course if this is just a quick dalliance we’re talking about he’s still gonna show his partner a good time, but they will not be getting the Full Experience™. A sad truth, that, but there are parts of him that are only accessible via a meaningful relationship, and while one might catch the occasional glimpse of said parts, they’ll never get the full thing without his leave. It’s kinda like how back in the day when they would put the DLC on the disk, but you had to pay to unlock it, but like a million times less infuriating because you didn’t spend $70 only to have to spend another $20 a few months later for something you technically already own, but I digress…

* * *

__

###  _A Million Little Ways_

**_Translations:_ **

_(Still on my basic ‘I can barely manage English most days’ shit, so don’t come at me if Google got me fucked up with these translations)_

  * Amorcito—Sweetheart
  * “Tan bueno para mi, amor.”—“So good for me, love.”
  * Alma (from the HC)—Soul



 

“Oh,  _amor_ —you feel like  _heaven_.”

The declaration is sighed against your lips before they’re captured in a searing kiss. Javier’s tongue slides along yours with the type of skill that only repetition can bring—and given that he’s probably spent what amounts to literal hours now kissing you like this he’s certainly got the act down to a science. You shudder a bit, hands gripping tighter at the fingers that are tangled in yours. You love it when he’s like this—all tender words and lingering kisses and achingly gentle touches—but it’s not to last, not tonight at least.

Soon his hips meet yours with a little more force, a little more speed and fuck if that isn’t good too. Your mingled breaths come faster as your bodies work against one another. One scarred hand leaves yours to grip at your hip and you take advantage of your newfound freedom to do the same to his shoulder; when he gives a particularly deep thrust just seconds later your nails bite into his skin hard enough to sting, but you’re not particularly worried about it—he’s never minded a little pain with his pleasure.

“ _Mmmm_. You like that, huh?” he purrs down at you as he snaps his hips against yours with purpose. “Nobody would ever guess that someone with such a sweet face would like it as rough as you do,  _amorcito_.”

Your only reply is to clench around his length and you earn a hissed curse for your troubles.

“ _Fuck_. But you take it  _so damn good_.  _Tan bueno para mi,_   _amor…_ ”

Time has no meaning in these shared moments so you cannot say for certain when he starts pushing into you with such urgency, but it is as clear a sign as anything that things are coming to their end. The hand that had been digging into your hip has since found a new home on your thigh; the leg that he’s hooked around his lower back pushes against him, driving him in deeper, faster. Aside from a few choice selections words have since been lost to you, wrapped up in your pleasure as you are, but your man’s still as vocal as ever. Praise and encouragement are as intertwined as the English and Spanish that he speaks; they wash over you in waves that leave your chest seizing up in the best of ways and the love you feel for each other only serves to make the physical feel just that much better.

When you go over the edge of your bliss you pull him down to you, clinging on tight and determined to drag him over this imagined cliff with you. Your pleasure has always been his to share in and he indulges in your climax deeply; when he cums some odd seconds later it’s with your sighed name on his lips.

He tells you he loves you once he’s regained his breath to speak, shows it with peppered kisses and purposefully bumped noses once you allow him the latitude to move. But even without all of this you would know, without a shadow of a doubt, that he loves you. He’s always so careful to show you in a million little ways.

You hear it in the encouragement he gives you when you cannot find it in yourself to push forward.  
Can feel it in every touch from his hands and brush of his lips.  
Can see it when his eyes find yours from across any space that dares to keep you apart.

His love is like a living thing, so palpable and cloying that you swear you can feel its velvet touch underneath your fingertips at any given moment. And you know—with all the surety that the sun will always set just to rise again—that when he calls you his  _amor_  it’s more than an endearment, it’s his truth.


	10. Javier Escuella x GN!Reader in: “Miss me?” {Not-SFW ABCs—J is for ‘Jack Off’}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> >  
>> 
>> _“Miss me?”_  
>  “You know I did, amorcito. But what are you doing back so soon?”  
> “It’s a long story, an interesting one too, but we can get into that later. Right now I’d much rather enjoy my welcome home present…” __  
> 
> 
> __  
> __  
>   
> In which Mister Escuella indulges in a little self-loving while his amor is away only to be reminded that reality is always better than imagination.

__

###  _J is for Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)_

Javier sees masturbation as more of a maintenance type-deal than anything else. He has the great misfortune of having a high sex drive, but also nearly crippling trust issues. Everything that happened with his lady-love back in Mexico has left him low-key fucked up in that aspect. He finds it hard to give his heart away, and for him if his heart isn’t in it neither is he. The thing he had with Abby was a one off; again she was someone he was fond of and that he could trust, but the whole deal showed him that the whole ‘friends with benefits’ life ain’t for him. He’s a monogamous creature by nature and when looking for a relationship he wants something real and enduring.

That being said he doesn’t have an issue hooking up with the working girls and the like as he views that as more of a business transaction than anything, but actually forming a real and meaningful relationship with someone he cares about? _Oh-ho **buddy**_ is that a whole goddamn thing and a half—but that’s a headcanon for another day.

Back to the chicken choking.

Anyways, he mostly does it to help keep his urges in check, but that doesn’t mean it’s not something to be enjoyed. If he has the time he’ll tease himself a bit, edging himself a few times before finally giving in to his need to cum. Side-note: he hardly ever plays with his own balls as he’s usually too focused on the main event, but he actually really loves it so by all means indulge him! Right, so anyways—if he has a s/o he’ll imagine that it’s their hand/mouth/cunt/ass clenching around him instead and that always takes him to the edge much faster than anything else will. But if it’s a person that he’s pining over or one who has already rejected his advances he won’t fantasize about them as he thinks that’s v. disrespectful. They’ve not given him leave to think of them in that way, so he won’t—not actively, at least. He can’t control his dreams or what makes him pop a boner, but he won’t rub one out to them.

Good Guy Javier Escuella.  
I trust him.

* * *

 

__

###  _“Miss me?”_

**_Translations:  
_ ** _(I would say that Google Translate hasn’t failed me yet, but we all know that’s a lie lmao… anyway, have more of their particular brand of fuckery concerning translations)_

  * Joder—Fuck
  * Sí, sí eso es todo—Yes, yes that’s it
  * Amorcito—Sweetheart



  

Phantom lips glide like liquid over the head of his cock and further still until they’re nestled down around its base. Javier’s hand follows their path, the oil he’d squeezed into his palm making things all the easier, but right now he’s trying to forget that it’s _his_ hand that’s at work—hell, that it’s a hand at all.

Yes, if he keeps his mind just fuzzed enough he can almost convince himself that it’s his _amor_ that’s tucked between his legs, lips parted around his cock, wet and warm and oh-so-willing to do whatever he requires of them in this moment. They would hollow out their cheeks as much as his girth would allow as they bob up and down at that perfect pace that always leaves his hips straining in an effort to not thrust up into their mouth; gagging’s generally a no-go unless previously agreed upon or certain cues are given. Of course given that it’s just him in a tent that is far too empty for his tastes he has no such need for restraint. His hips buck up into his willing hand in hard, quick thrusts that has him squeezing his eyes shut as he clamps his free hand over his mouth. Making his pleasure known to the world when he has someone with him is one thing—and a thing gladly done at that—but doing so while getting himself off is just sad, honestly.

He’s close, so damn close, and his hand unconsciously focuses more on the leaking tip with every pass. _Little licks_ , he hazily thinks, _right at that spot—¡ **Joder**! Sí, sí eso es todo…_ The more logical side of his brain knows that it’s impossible for someone to be sucking him off while also lapping at his head like a kitten, but that part is buried down deep, lost to the fog of lust and want and blood that thrums for _more-more- **more**_. He works himself well, but _god_ it would be so much better if it was his lover’s hand or mouth or _fuck_ their hot little hole squeezing around his cock—he doesn’t even care which at this point, he just wants something of theirs touching him in the way he needs most.

His mind goes blurry with images now; there’s not enough blood left north of his crotch for him to make sense of most of them, these half remembered memories of dalliances past that create whispers of sensation that drive him ever closer towards the edge. _Just a few more strokes_ , the tightening of his muscles tell him, _and you’ll be there_ —and yet despite this he stills his hand. He wants this to last, just a bit longer, wants to cum so hard that he falls into a sleep deep enough to be dreamless. He wants, _needs_ , this reprieve; already his days are heavy with the fact that his _amor’s_ not by his side and won’t be again for at least another day—if he must endure another night of too vivid dreams that leave him grasping for someone that isn’t there he just might stab someone.

His body revolts against the sudden lack of friction and the denial that trails it. His cock twitches impatiently while his stomach muscles seize and his heart stutter over itself; odd sensations to be sure, but not entirely unpleasant, especially when he knows what they will lead up to. Still it’s an adjustment, and the balance of keeping himself on the right side of his arousal turns the simple act into an endeavor that’s just shy of being a step beyond what he’s willing to endure. As he tries to reach this equilibrium he silently curses Hosea and the scheme that apparently required his love’s expertise; if not for that he would be inside of them right now instead of rutting against his own hand–

“I can’t say I’m happy to have walked in on the intermission, but it is nice to know that I’m not the only one you like to tease.”

The much love name of an even better loved person passes Javi’s lips in a strangled gasp as his eyes snap open. The day’s failing light combined with the tent’s thick material makes it impossible to see any details, but he knows that silhouette, has admired the dips, curves, and planes of that frame for far too long not to. As they draw near the smile that is both wanted and expected is plastered across their pretty face as they come down to nestle into his side.

“Miss me?”

“You know I did, _amorcito_. But what are you doing back so soon?” The old conman’s plan was supposed to reach its culmination tomorrow afternoon which meant that unless something went very wrong—or possibly very _right_ , though given the gang’s recent strain of luck that wasn’t nearly as likely—they shouldn’t have been back before then.

“It’s a long story, an interesting one too,” they tell him with a bit of a laugh, “but we can get into that later. Right now I’d much rather enjoy my welcome home present…”

A graze of teeth to the shell of his ear then while a hand that is blessedly not his own wraps around his length and begins to pump. The feeling of his _amor’s_ fingers squeezing at him is almost enough to make him give in to his bliss, but he fights back the urge, but then a sweet voice is telling him to cum, asking him to fall apart under their touch and it’s just not in Javier’s nature to deny his love, least of all when the request is as lovely as this.

His release hits him with the force of a rogue train. His groan is long and drawn out as he bows forward, heedless of the thick rivets of seed that shoot up onto his shirt. Curses and praise are whispered between kisses to his temple and cheek as his lover’s hand continues to nurse him through his orgasm; it’s a total reversal of their usual roles, but he finds that he needs it in this moment. Though they were only apart for a few days they’ve been long and worrisome ones for him that’ve always ended with him trying to ignore the dip in his side that echoed its hollowness without his _amor_ there to fill it. Javi’s never thought of himself as a particularly needy partner before, but with everything that’s been going on as of late he hardly thinks he can be blamed for wanting to keep his lover close.

And close is what they stay—with tangled limbs and shared breaths and fingers intertwined—until the dawning of a new day calls them back to their duties once more.


	11. Javier Escuella x Reader in: He's a Super Freak(TM) {Not-SFW ABCs—K is for ‘Kinks’}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No fic this time around, my dudes. I've been throwing hands with that Insomnia(TM) and getting my ass _whooped_ lmao. As a result I've been too wiped to writing anything worth reading and that combined with the nature of this particular fill... Well *shrugs* Maybe one of these days I'll come back and add an accompanying ficlet, but that day is not today.

 

###  _K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)_

Oh _BOY_ do I have some thoughts on this.  
Come children _that had better not be **actual children**_ , and let us rap a taste on this, shall we?

In a valiant attempt to not make this even more of a monster of a thing than I know it will become I’ll be doing a top ten type deal, organized in no real order because if I have to sit down and think about that we’ll be here all night. It’ll be set up in a more traditional HC style, meaning bullet points! Idk why I’m so excited by that, guess it makes me feel like a legit HC blogger lmao. That being said—this thing is **_long_**. I really didn’t need to go this hard (and probably shouldn’t have*), but I did. Between this and the varied nature of this list there won’t be an accompanying ficlet. Sorry about it, but anything that would cover all of this would be worthy of a full length fic and I just don’t have that in me right now. Hope you guys understand!

*Edit: this is _five_ ( **5** ) pages in Word. God help us all.

  1. **Dom/Sub play**
    * He loves having you place so much trust in his hands.
    * Let him tie you up and he’ll return your willingness with all the orgasms your body can handle. 
      * …and maybe a few more after that. Watching you writhe while he overstimulates you is a true thing of wonder and beauty to him.
      * But more on this can be found later in this list.
    * But rope isn’t the only way he’ll chose to bind you. In actuality he prefers to use his words. 
      * To quote another sexy mofo: “When I say something I _mean that shit_.” 
        * —Erik Killmonger, 2k18
      * If he gives you an order he expects you to obey, without question or hesitation. If you want to be bratty you WILL face the consequences. 
        * Said consequences will vary depending on his mood/the severity of your transgression.
        * He’s not super big on spanking, usually reserving it for when you’re being especially obstinate, though if you’re into it he can be convinced to oblige you more often.
        * His preferred method of punishing you is either overstimulating you until you’re begging him to stop or edging you until you’re begging him to cum—there is no in between.
        * Complete orgasm denial is rare. Usually he’ll leave you aching and wanting for a while, but he’ll (almost) always either finish the job himself or allow you to.
      * That being said, I headcanon Javi as being a reluctant switch. 
        * Domming is his jam, he lives for that shit, but he also loves the fuck outta you so if you want to tie him up on occasion then he’ll allow it.
        * The key words there being **ON OCCASION**.
        * This will, in no way, be a common occurrence.
        * This isn’t to say he’s one of those people who always needs to be on top or anything like that, but he does like having control.
        * Like even if you’re riding him you can bet your sweet ass that his hands’ll be on your hips guiding you with varying degrees of subtlety depending on the mood.
        * He really, _really_ does not like giving up control completely—blame that on past experiences—so if he trusts you enough to hand over the reins fully… 
          * Look, just don’t doubt the depth of his love for you at that point is all I’m saying.


  1. **Power imbalances**
    * I feel like there’s probably a better term for this, but I don’t know it and that’s not the point.
    * Nothing super severe, but like fucking you while he’s still mostly clothed and you’re naked as the day you were born? 
      * *chef kiss*
    * Would sensory deprivation tie into this? 
      * Imma say—yeah, sure, why not?
      * He’ll cover your eyes, bind your hands, and just leave you there for a bit.
      * Maybe he leaves the room completely, maybe he just sits in a chair and watches you squirm.
      * Expect lots of random touches of varying pressure to various places. 
        * He may even introduce a few other objects while doing this; feathers, ice, ect.
        * Also if we’re talking a modern AU then he may even pull out a vibe to tease you with; it really just depends on his mood.
        * He also like seeing if he can make you cum with just his voice alone. 
          * Spoiler: He can.
        * Though he enjoys it, this isn’t something he does very often as he loves the feeling of your hands on his body and lives for seeing the way your eyes go hazy as your orgasm takes you.
      * Also roleplaying ties into this. 
        * I don’t think that as a rule he’d be too into RP-ing—he’s Javier fucking Escuella and that’s more than enough, as far as he’s concerned—but like pretending to be the big, bad outlaw that’s got you over a barrel? He’s down, he’s SO down. 
          * ~~But not as down as you’re gonna be when you’re on your knees gagging his cock in exchange for your freedom.~~


  1. **Choking**
    * Always lightly, never enough to make you pass out/actually do you any harm.
    * Really it’s just enough pressure to let you know what’s up.
    * The thing that really does it for him is the trust that goes into it.
    * Like his one (1) past relationship ended on a sour note because of a breach of trust and that betrayal broke him in many, many ways. Since pulling himself back together he’s gained a new and deeper appreciation of the concept so to have you place so much in him with this act? 
      * *The Wedding March plays softly in the distance*
    * That being said please do not wrap your hands around his neck.
    * Honey’s got some bad memories with people coming for his neck—you’ve seen the scar. 
      * He does accept kisses, nose nuzzles, and licks on said scar, however. 
        * Just always make sure to come at him from the front if you’re gonna do any of that; he needs to see it coming.
        * The guy that tried to slit his throat came from behind and well—unless you’re trying to set off the _Kill Bill_ sirens just don’t do the thing.
        * He cannot be held responsible for any knee-jerk reactions (i.e. punching and-or stabbing) that may occur if he feels like he’s in danger.
      * He will completely gag you on his dick tho. 
        * *insert obligatory ‘ ** _Only if you’re okay with it!!_** ’ here*
        * He loves to see your lips stretched around his fat cock, eyes leaking, drool dripping down your chin—the sloppier the better.
        * This also goes back to that trust thing I mentioned earlier.


  1. **Thigh riding**
    * Again, it’s a power thing. 
      * Blame his constant need on his fucked up childhood. When you’ve had your power snatched away from you time and again by people who have too damn much of it you start to crave the stuff if only to protect yourself and those you love.
    * Anyways!
    * Being able to get you off with such an innocuous part of his body is just H O T . 
      * That doesn’t mean he’s not going to tease you about how loud you’re moaning or how wet or hard you are. 
        * If his teasing becomes too much politely point out that he’s about to burst through his fly—that’ll shut him up.
        * It’ll also end with you spread open underneath him either right then and there or at a later time depending on the circumstances.
      * This sometimes serves as a form of foreplay if he’s too tired to get you ready with his more preferred methods. 
        * While not as well-endowed as Charles or Arthur, he’s honey is **_thicc_** so he always makes sure that you’re nice and relaxed and ready for him. Ideally you’ll have cum, or at least gotten close to cumming, before he takes you. He’s considerate like that lol…
      * Also expect a lot of puns around your ‘riding skills’ because he’s kind of a dork.


  1. **General light bondage**
    * Again, there’s probably a sexier name for it, but still—not the point.
    * I feel like this is p. self-explanatory, honestly, but let’s get into it anyway!
    * First of all, his knot work is _phenomenal_. 
      * If your first thought was some ABO related shit, don’t worry—I’m right there with you friend-o lmao.
      * Anyways! In this particular instance we’re talking about actual rope play. 
        * Fun fact: this skill was gained at a far more innocent time in his life.
        * He actually stumbled across a book on knots during his childhood and it quickly became a favorite of his as it provided him with a v. cheap hobby.
        * Whenever he had a spare moment you could find him hunched over the book with a length of some cloth or another practicing. 
          * Of course the other kids soon got in on this action so like just imagine a dozen or so kiddos all gathered around this old, worn book with their chosen strings all practicing and trying to outdo one another. 
            * _Precious_.
          * Eventually he managed to get his hands on a guitar and his old pastime fell to the wayside, only being used when something or someone needed to be secured.
          * It isn’t until he starts tying you up that he finds a new appreciation for the skill.
        * Aside from binding you, he also likes to deprive you of your sense of sight, but we went over this already. 
          * But again, it’s not unheard of for him to tie his bandana around your eyes before fucking you.
          * It’s also not unheard of for him to shove said bandana in your mouth to gag you. 
            * This is rare as he really loves hearing you, but sometimes it’s necessary. 
              * *cough* _that time he fucked you in the storage closet in Blackwater’s theater_ *cough*


  1. **Rough sex**
    * As a rule Javier doesn’t really care too much about how he has you so long as he’s inside you.
    * But be that as it may, he’d be lying if he said that he didn’t prefer—* _ahem_ *—employing a _firmer hand_.
    * Hair pulling, spanking, bruising grips, stinging bites, thrusts hard enough to have you speaking in tongues.
    * He’ll only give you as much as you can handle, but if you can hang with him… 
      * How do you want your rock?
      * An oval cut? Square? Maybe something tension set? Just let him know.


  1. **Light exhibitionism**
    * I already touched on this a bit in ‘D’, but let’s get a bit more in depth, shall we?
    * Like I said before: people want to kill him (and more than likely you as well, if you about that life too; hell even if you’re not you’d still be a pressure point to exploit) so fucking in public places poses more risks for the pair of you than for the average couple.
    * That being said, he’s still down for pulling you into a really off path alleyway for a quick romp.
    * He’ll never go further than fingering and-or oral, however. 
      * Actual sex would leave you far too vulnerable for his liking. Again—safety first!!
    * But if you’re near camp that’s an entirely different story.
    * Dutch runs a tight ship so there are always at least a few people on patrol at any given time which makes things a little bit safer. 
      * It also raises your chances of getting caught as he won’t stray too far from their patrol. 
        * He cites your safety and while that is part of the reason he wants to stay close, you also know the thrill of being caught is a major factor too.
      * Now if we’re talking about a modern AU, then he’s all about bathroom sex. 
        * At bars/clubs/house parties—I mean, _come on_.
        * He gets to take you in one of his favorite positions in front of a mirror. It’s a win-win-win*. 
          * *The initial win in that sequence comes from being able to take you at all. You’re his _tesoro_ , after all, and he cherishes you accordingly.


  1. **Praise**
    * He loves to heap praise on you! 
      * He is one of the most reaffirming partners this side of the Dakota River.
      * Expect to be told how good you’re doing, how well you take his cock, ect.
      * He’ll also tell you how good you’re making him feel.
      * Part of the reason he does this is because he actually wants you to know, but mostly he just likes watching you blush.
      * Also lots and lots of pet names—usually in Spanish because he knows what his speaking in his mother tongue does to you.
      * But it’s not all fluffy-fluff-fluffs—dude can, and will, get downright _filthy_. 
        * Again, your blush is one of his favorite things ever so expect him to say some truly bawdy things, though somehow he always manages to stay on the right side of the sexy-raunchy line.
      * He loves to have it heaped on him too! 
        * While he doesn’t have the ego of someone like Dutch, he’s not one to downplay his skills. He knows that he’s good at many, _many_ things and his prowess between the sheets is definitely at the top of the list.
        * Telling him how good he’s giving it to you will send him over the moon.
        * It will also inflate his ego, but can you really say that he doesn’t deserve it?
        * The good thing about Javi is this praise will only make him keep his stroke game on point. After all, you have your expectations and he has a reputation to protect ;)


  1. **Say his name, say his name~**
    * I guess its low-key kind of a voice kink?
    * However you want to label it just make like a Destiny's Child song and _say his goddamn name_.
    * Doesn’t matter if you’re cooing it at him after he does something you find utterly adorable, or moaning it while he goes down on you—he just loves hearing it.
    * It’s all rooted in his oral fixation. 
      * Mouths do things to him, even when they aren’t actively doing things to him.
      * If your mouth is parting around his name with any sort of affection? DED.
    * It’s also due in large part to that primal part of a male’s brain that just preens at knowing he’s making his partner feel good. 
      * He knows he’s doing his job and doing it well when all you can do his whimper his name over and over again…


  1. **Finger Sucking™**
    * Let him slide his fingers in your mouth and he’ll be instantly hard.
    * If he’s already hard then he’ll be ready to blow his load.
    * Nobody knows why he finds it so sexy, he just does, let it be. 
      * (of course it’s the fact that it echoes a blowie)
      * (also there’s the whole oral fixation thing too)
    * If you slide your fingers into his mouth he won’t object. 
      * _Especially_ if they’re coated in the evidence of your arousal.
    * Also if you lick and-or suck something off of your own finger do expect his lips to be latching on to yours in like .5 seconds. 
      * “Oops! Looks like I got a bit of food on my finger, _better lick it_ _off_.” And then just make direct eye contact as you slowly slide the digit into your mouth. 
        * Someone just got a one-way ticket straight to the BoneZone lmfao.
        * Don’t be surprised if he stops you before your finger makes it to your mouth, however. Depending on his mood he may take care of that mess for you… 
          * This boah can and will leave you weak in the knees just from sucking at/curling his tongue around your finger—trust and believe.
        * This is probably one of his favorite ways to be teased, and it will garner a very enthusiastic response so use this knowledge wisely.




	12. So Good to Me {Not-SFW ABCs—L is for ‘Location’}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > _“Oh mi amor. Always so good to me…”_
> 
>   
> In which your fellow hotel patrons become well acquainted with Mister Escuella’s name… 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here I am, back on my bullshit once more. Sorry for the delay folks; life’s been p. weird/terrible this past month. But anyways! As a bit of a peace offering I went in a little harder than necessary with the ficlets this round. Not only have I made separate fills for male, female, and gender neutral readers, but they’re all actual oneshots—and far more explicit than my usual fare as I was in a Mood™ lol.  
> Also! I’ve went back and added a ficlet to ‘K’, if anyone’s interested.  
> Anyways! Here’s to hoping I can get through the rest of this list w/o any further incidents—though holding ones breath over this is not advisable lol…

###  **_L_** _is for ‘Location’ (Favorite places to do the do)_

If we’re talking the yeehaw days then it’s a hotel.

You can both grab a real, decadently steamy, extremely bubbly bath—bonus points for fancy soaps that you’ll definitely be stealing!—before hitting the town. He’ll surprise you with a new outfit that somehow fits perfectly, and when you ask him about it he’ll just shrug. Having spent so much time with tailors he’s picked up a thing or two, and that combined with his intimate knowledge of your body means that he can safely guess at your measurements. Is that weird? A little, yes. Do you care? Idk man, I don’t know your life like that, but as for me I think it’s sweet. Plus free clothes? Umm yes pls?? And you just know they’ll be stylish and flattering because there’s no way Mister Escuella’s gonna have his lover out in these here streets looking like anything less than the royalty they are to him. He loves to spoil you, and I say let him!

In that same vein, Javi’s the type that’ll want to wine and dine you, so expect to be treated to the nicest meal the town has to offer. Drinks and dancing are his jam—though if you’ve got two left feet and an aversion to advertising this to the world at large (*cough* _like me_ *cough*) he’ll gladly take you to see a show or something instead. Once you’ve had your fun he’ll take you back to the hotel where you’ll share another bath in which he’ll defo get hands-y, but unless you give him the proper motivation (i.e. beg for it) he won’t put it on you proper just yet. He’d rather save the main event for the rented room.

Given the living arrangements back at camp, you’re rarely afforded any privacy, and beds?

I’m sorry, does she work here? Because I’ve never heard of her.

Expect to be thoroughly fucked, and don’t you dare try to hold back your sounds of pleasure. He’s paid good, if not honest, money for this room and dammit he’ll have his due. You’re never gonna see these people again, and even if you do who cares? You don’t know ‘em. Let them hear what he does to you, how good he makes you feel—make the name ‘ _Javier_ ’ synonymous with ‘ _the best damn sex I’ve ever been forced to audibly bear witness to while staying in a hotel_ ’, and he’ll certainly return the favor. (*cough* _I may be writing a full length fic about this very scenario_ *cough*).

Now if we’re talking a modern AU then I’d have to say a bar bathroom—specifically after playing a set (*cough* _I may be writing a fic about this scenario too_ *cough* Anybody got a lozenge? All this coughing’s doing my throat in >.>).

I know I touch on the ramifications surrounding his exhibitionist streak in ‘K’, but it bears being said again: while the thrill of potential discovery really does get him going, the potential for danger keeps it from being something he indulges in too deeply or too often. Being an outlaw has its share of perks, but having people constantly gunning for your head isn’t one of them. In a modern AU, however, he’s not worried about someone taking advantage of your combined vulnerable state to bust a cap in your very exposed asses. In a bar’s bathroom he not only gets to bend you over the sink, but he has the added advantage of (usually) having a mirror right there so he can see firsthand how good he’s making you feel. He never bothers with locking the door when he does this—he low-key, high-key wants someone to walk in and see him taking you.  _*insert obligatory—‘ **Only if you’re okay with it!!** ’—here*_

 

•················· :• ۞ •: ················· :••: ۞ :••: ················· :• ۞ •: ·················•

 

###  _So Good to Me {F!Reader}_

_Translations:  
(*insert witty comment about how shitty Google Translate is here*)_

  * _Hermosa—Beautiful_
  * _Querida—Dear_
  * _Joder—Fuck_
  * _Te amo—I love you_
  * _Tan apretado que me llevas tan bien—So tight, you take me so good_
  * _Tan buena chica para mi—Such a good girl for me_
  * _Amorcito—Sweetheart_



 

“Feels good,  _hermosa?_ ”

Contentment turns your replying hum into something more akin to a purr as you allow yourself to sink further down into the sudsy water. You stretch out as much as the confining tub will allow—and given that you’re currently in one of the finest hotels that Blackwater has to offer that’s actually quite far. The porcelain tub is wide enough to hold both you and your lover comfortably, a thing that the pair of you have taken advantage of several times over the course of your stay; sometimes testing the integrity of the claw-foot legs, others, like now, just enjoying the decadence of a hot bath.

With Javier’s sturdy frame at your back, his strong hands kneading at your shoulders, and the floral scented steam curling up around you to dance in the day’s dying light you’re positive that you’ve found your version of heaven. Between the lack of decent sleeping arrangements back at camp and the strain that your lifestyle puts on the body you  _need_  this, and your man’s all too happy to give it to you. Javi’s hands follow the curve of your shoulders upwards until they’re at either side of your neck; with his long fingers caging the delicate column, his thumbs rub firm lines along the back of its length before stopping at the base and digging in. The little circles that he rubs into your pliant flesh feel amazing and you find yourself hunching forward slightly to give him more room to work. The body at your back shakes with silent laughter at your actions though he does accept your invitation.

Any lingering stiffness soon meets its end as he continues to work your muscles over with all the precision and care that you’ve come to expect from him. Everything that he holds dear—from his guitar to his gun—are all meticulously maintained, so it hardly comes as a surprise to you that he puts so much effort into helping to keep you whole and healthy—after all, he’s told you time and again that you’re his most treasured jewel.

When a particularly stubborn knot finally melts away under his touch you can hardly stop the moan that pushes its way past your lips, and given what your little noises of pleasure do to him you don’t rightly want to. He’s been half-hard since you both submerged yourselves, and your efforts to bring him all the way before having your way have been rebuffed in the time since— _“Just relax, baby. Let me take care of you,”_  he had breathed into your ear as he gently, but firmly removed your wandering hands from his body. It was a sweet thought from an even sweeter man, but you’ve obliged him for long enough, you think.

Apparently he shares your thoughts on the matter because for the first time since this all started your subtle grind against his crotch doesn’t earn any tuts. Instead Javi lets out a moan of his own as he pulls you in against his chest. His hands are just as busy as they had been before, though instead of relieving tension he seeks to build it within you in the most delicious of ways. The peak of one breast is teased to hardness while its opposite is cupped and squeezed; all the while he ruts against your back with jerky little motions that become more and more desperate with each grind of his hips. By the time he slides his hand down to your center your legs have long since parted and you’re more than ready for his touch. He slides along your folds, a movement meant to tease, before pulling back the hood of your clit. The water has left his calluses much softer than usual, but you can still feel their presence as his fingers stroke at your pearl in that way that always leaves you weak.

“ _Mmmm_. Like that,  _querida?_ ”

His question is a rhetorical one—the man knows your body better than you do at this point—he just wants to hear you. You’ve been gasping your pleasure to the ceiling all this time, but you know what it is that he’s waiting for, and you’re more than willing to give it to him.

His name falls from your lips in time with the roll of your hips and his moans ring out in reply just as you expect them to. Nips then, sharp and stinging, against your shoulder, neck, jaw—wherever his mouth can reach he sinks his teeth in with only the occasional kiss or lick trailing to soothe the mild ache. When his fingers move down to dance around your entrance you start to whine only to have the sound stick in your throat when he pushes two of them into you; he presses his hand flush against your cunt and you’re quick to grind against it in search of more stimulation. Javi’s unoccupied arm snakes around your waist in an attempt to keep you from disrupting the water too much with your thrusts, but his efforts prove to be in vain as you still manage to get a good deal of it over the rolled sides. Chuckles, teases, and praise are all breathed against your ear as he watches your eager display even as his own show of arousal presses hard, hot, and heavy against your back.

“ _Joder_ … You’re almost there,  _amor_. Almost there already…” The sweet sigh of his words are well at odds with your desperate cadence and the almost comical sounds of the sloshing liquid.

When trying to hold you still proves to be all but useless, Javi’s hand skates its way up your side until he’s caressing the curve of your breast. Remnants of the bubbles that had once covered you completely make his movements all the more fluid, and his dampened fingers glide over the hardened bud at its center with ease before closing over it in a pinch; at the same time the fingers that have been steadily pumping into you are joined by a third and the resulting stretch has you crying out. It’s not quite as thick as his cock, but it’s enough to send you hand flying to your clit. Together you chase down your orgasm, though Javier’s input doesn’t just stop at the physical. The playful banter that he’d been keeping up initially has since devolved into filth that would’ve no doubt left you blushing were you not so far gone. With every new word uttered you feel the coil in your belly twisting tighter and tighter and then–

“Let me feel you come undone,  _amor_ …”

You’re not sure if it’s the purr of his request or the trailing scrape of teeth over the shell of your ear that does it for you, but in the end you figure it doesn’t really matter because you’re falling into bliss. Pleasure washes over you in waves that pulse out from your center all the way down to the tips of your toes and up through your scalp. You’re only vaguely aware of what the body at your back is doing during all of this, though his words— _“You always cum so fuckin’ good for me…”_ —do manage to break through the haze.

Though a bit lascivious, there’s no denying the sentence’s loving undertone, and the sentiment grounds you. You tilt your head further back against your lover’s shoulder in search of his eyes only to find that his gaze is already on you. Though there is certainly a measure of lust dancing about in those endless dark pools, there is also longing of a different sort. Seeing such adoration, such  _love_ , so nakedly displayed makes your heart lurch in the best of ways.

“I love you.”  
“ _Te amo._ ”

You can’t help but to smile at the declaration spoken in tandem, though in two different languages. Javi’s lips pull up into a smile of their own before capturing yours in a kiss. There’s still too much want between you for the kiss to dwell in the realm of sweet for long, and soon the simple press of lips turns into something full of teeth and tongue and need. The slightly awkward positioning sees the kiss breaking before either of you are truly ready for its end, but it’s just as well since, despite the growing heat between you, the water is starting to go cold.

The short trip from the tub to the bed is full of wandering hands and breathy giggles though once you fall into the mattress’s welcoming embrace all levity is immediately crushed under the weight of your lust. Hands find your hips then, but instead of sinking into your warmth like you expect him to, Javi positions you so that you’re on your side before fitting himself against your back. His still-straining cock feels like a firebrand from where it sits trapped in between you and you find yourself grinding against it just to hear him moan out your name—and he does, though your efforts also earn you a swat against your raised hip. The strike isn’t nearly hard enough to warrant it, but he still soothes the skin there with a gentle swirl of fingers that is just this side of tickling. That same hand soon slides down the length of your thigh until he reaches your knee and your breathing speeds up in anticipation for what you know is coming next.

Javier’s sigh as he finally slides into you is the embodiment of contentment. The hand that had been supporting your knee lowers so that your leg is resting against his while his lips find the sensitive skin just below your ear. “Oh  _amor_ —you feel  _so good_ ,” he tells you in between peppered kisses.

Your reply comes in the form of a reedy moan as you grind back into him as much as your positioning will allow. He pulls you closer before winding his arm upwards, stopping just long enough to give a nipple a teasing tweak, until he’s able to caress the skin of your neck. The feeling of his thumb against your pulse point is enough to leave you clenching against him and that sets him to sighing out a broken moan. Your hand finds his then and, after bringing it upwards to place a kiss to his palm, you slide it down to where you’re joined. He takes the hint with a huff of laughter, his fingers finding the knot of your clit and rubbing tight circles against it.

“ _Ooooh **fuck**_. That’s it sweetheart, that’s it,” he coos as your movements become just that bit more insistent. “You’re so close, I can feel it— _ah!_   _Tan apretado que me llevas tan bien_ … Let me feel you,  _amor_ —let me feel you cum around this dick…”

And really, when he asks like that how can you do anything but comply?

Already sensitive from his earlier attentions and more than ready to cum, you allow yourself to fall away for the second time. His name rips its way out of your throat in a jagged, needy yell as you curl in on yourself. The body at your back is relentless as he continues to stroke at your core with fingers and cock both and it’s quickly becoming  _too much_ , but you don’t say the word that will free you from this divine torture. You do, however, seize his wrist and squeeze.

Javi’s chuckle is dark as his motions taper off before stilling completely. “ _Tan buena chica para mi._  Think you got one more in you,  _amorcito?_ ”

Though your body is emphatically screaming  _no_ , previous encounters tell you that you’ve got that and then some. You’re more than able, not to mention  _willing_ , to give him what he needs—even if it means you’ll more than likely be walking with a limp because of it.

With your assent Javier rolls you onto your stomach before taking your hips in hand and pulling your ass up to level. When he slides into you again it’s in one smooth motion that pushes the air clean out of your lungs. The pace that he sets up this time is much harsher than what you’d been getting moments before;  _that_ had been lovemaking,  _this_  is fucking. The feel of him slamming into you is almost more than your overstimulated cunt can handle, but behind the discomfort lays a thread of pleasure. You chase down the feeling, grasping at its tendrils and urging them to unfurl with every backwards press of your hips and stuttered breath. It doesn’t take long for the first lick of desire’s flames to start up again and soon you’re calling out with just as much ardor as your man.

You can tell he’s nearing his end when he bows himself over you. His thrusts come harder and impossibly deeper, his thick cock dragging along your walls and over that spot inside you that always leaves you shuddering. His breaths are little more than pants and his words all slur as he grinds against you with each push forward.

“Yes, baby,  _yes_ ,” you groan out as you continue to work your hips against him, “ _fuck me._  Fuck me ‘til you cum.”

Your words seem to be all the push he needs.

Teeth sink into your shoulder as he thrusts once, twice, three times before pushing in deep. His release coats your insides in hot, thick spurts that drip out of you when he pulls out several long seconds later.

“ _Fuck._ ” He bites off the word in a way that leaves you both laughing as he collapses next to you.

You make a noise of agreement as you move to slide down next to him, but a hand against your shoulder has you stopping short. The annoyance laced confusion that you initially feel morphs into something that makes your mouth go dry as you look down at him.

“You told me you had one more in you,  _amor_ — _you owe me._ ”

Gentle, but insistent hands pull you so that you’re hovering over his face before urging you downwards and starting in on you again. You’re a mess in every sense of the word, but Javi doesn’t care; his tongue runs the length of your slit, heedless of your combined juices, before focusing on your clit. Thankfully the only thing more obscene than your desperate chorus is that of your man’s. If there were ever any doubts in your mind as to just how much he loves the taste of you—and himself, for that matter—they’re put well and truly to rest in this moment. His moans hit the over-sensitive nerves like shockwaves and you find yourself burying your hand in his still-damp locks just to ground yourself. The scrape of your nails against his scalp forces a growl from his throat and the sound of it—deep, primal, and so damn  _good_ —is enough to end you.

Your orgasm unspools low in your belly, its thrumming hard and in time with the beat of your heart. Like the first of the session, it travels throughout the entirety of your body with an intensity that leaves you reeling. Javi continues in his ministrations, though with tapered movements, in an effort to keep you floating for as long as possible; it’s good,  _so fucking good_ , but having already crossed the border of pleasure and pain once it’s so much easier to fall on the wrong side of it again. This time you do utter your safeword and his mouth falls away in an instant. His hands are tender as he guides you down the length of his body, and once your chests are mostly aligned he urges you rest; you’re little more than dead weight at this point, but he bears you without so much as a shift of discomfort.

His sigh is dreamy as his fingers rub a soothing pattern against your nape. “ _Oh mi amor._  Always so good to me…”

“No better than you are to me, love,” you assure him, lips cuddling in against the underside of his jaw in the sweetest approximation of a kiss.

 

•················· :• ۞ •: ················· :••: ۞ :••: ················· :• ۞ •: ·················•

 

###  _So Good to Me {GN!Reader}_

_Translations:  
(*insert witty comment about how shitty Google Translate is here*)_

  * _Cariño—Dear/Sweetie_
  * _Amorcito—Sweetheart_
  * _Joder—Fuck_
  * _Te amo—I love you_
  * _Tan apretado que me llevas tan bien—So tight, you take me so good_
  * _Tan bueno para mi—So good for me_



 

“Feels good,  _cariño_ _?_ ”

Contentment turns your replying hum into something more akin to a purr as you allow yourself to sink further down into the sudsy water. You stretch out as much as the confining tub will allow—and given that you’re currently in one of the finest hotels that Blackwater has to offer that’s actually quite far. The porcelain tub is wide enough to hold both you and your lover comfortably, a thing that the pair of you have taken advantage of several times over the course of your stay; sometimes testing the integrity of the claw-foot legs, others, like now, just enjoying the decadence of a hot bath.

With Javier’s sturdy frame at your back, his strong hands kneading at your shoulders, and the floral scented steam curling up around you to dance in the day’s dying light you’re positive that you’ve found your version of heaven. Between the lack of decent sleeping arrangements back at camp and the strain that your lifestyle puts on the body you  _need_  this, and your man’s all too happy to give it to you. Javi’s hands follow the curve of your shoulders upwards until they’re at either side of your neck; with his long fingers caging the length of it, his thumbs rub firm lines along the back of the column before stopping at the base and digging in. The little circles that he rubs into your pliant flesh feel amazing and you find yourself hunching forward slightly to give him more room to work. The body at your back shakes with silent laughter at your actions though he does accept your invitation.

Any lingering stiffness soon meets its end as he continues to work your muscles over with all the precision and care that you’ve come to expect from him. Everything that he holds dear—from his guitar to his gun—are all meticulously maintained, so it hardly comes as a surprise to you that he puts so much effort into helping to keep you whole and healthy—after all, he’s told you time and again that you’re his most treasured jewel.

When a particularly stubborn knot finally melts away under his touch you can hardly stop the moan that pushes its way past your lips, and given what your little noises of pleasure do to him you don’t rightly want to. He’s been half-hard since you both submerged yourselves, and your efforts to bring him all the way before having your way have been rebuffed in the time since— _“Just relax, baby. Let me take care of you,”_  he had breathed into your ear as he gently, but firmly removed your wandering hands from his body. It was a sweet thought from an even sweeter man, but you’ve obliged him for long enough, you think.

Apparently he shares your thoughts on the matter because for the first time since this all started your subtle grind against his crotch doesn’t earn any tuts. Instead Javi lets out a moan of his own as he pulls you in against his chest. His hands are just as busy as they had been before, though instead of relieving tension he seeks to build it within you in the most delicious of ways. Blunt nails scrape over a nipple, teasing it to hardness, while the fingers of his opposite hand glide over the skin of your stomach leaving goosebumps in their wake; all the while he ruts against your back with jerky little motions that become more and more desperate with each grind of his hips. By the time he slides his hand down to your center your legs have long since parted and you’re more than ready for his touch. When he finally touches you where you need him most his movements are maddeningly slow and designed to tease, a thing that the calluses on his hands only serve to exacerbate; the water has left them much softer than usual, but you can still feel their presence as his fingers stroke you in that way that always leaves you weak.

“ _Mmmm_. Like that,  _amorcito_ _?_ ”

His question is a rhetorical one—the man knows your body better than you do at this point—he just wants to hear you. You’ve been gasping your pleasure to the ceiling all this time, but you know what it is that he’s waiting for, and you’re more than willing to give it to him.

His name falls from your lips in time with the roll of your hips and his moans ring out in reply just as you expect them to. Nips then, sharp and stinging, against your shoulder, neck, jaw—wherever his mouth can reach he sinks his teeth in with only the occasional kiss or lick trailing to soothe the mild ache. When his fingers move down to draw teasing little circles around your entrance you start to whine only to have the sound stick in your throat when he presses in. Though the stretch is minimal, it’s exquisite and you find yourself grinding against him in search of more stimulation. Javi’s legs lock more firmly around your frame then in an attempt to keep you from disrupting the water too much with your thrusts, but his efforts prove to be in vain as you still manage to get a good deal of it over the rolled sides. Chuckles, teases, and praise are all breathed against your ear as he watches your eager display even as his own show of arousal presses hard, hot, and heavy against your back.

“ _Joder_ … You’re almost there,  _amor_. Almost there already…” The sweet sigh of his words are well at odds with your desperate cadence and the almost comical sounds of the sloshing liquid.

When a second finger pushes its way inside you, blind hands reach back in search of some part of him,  _any part_ , in an attempt to keep yourself from floating away on the tide of ecstasy that his steady pumping creates; when you finally find his jaw he chuckles a bit before laying a kiss against your palm. Together you chase down your orgasm, though Javier’s input doesn’t just stop at the physical. The playful banter that he’d been keeping up initially has since devolved into filth that would’ve no doubt left you blushing were you not so far gone. With every new word uttered you feel the coil in your belly twisting tighter and tighter and then–

“Let me feel you come undone,  _amor_ …”

You’re not sure if it’s the purr of his request or the trailing scrape of teeth over the shell of your ear that does it for you, but in the end you figure it doesn’t really matter because you’re falling into bliss. Pleasure washes over you in waves that pulse out from your center all the way down to the tips of your toes and up through your scalp. You’re only vaguely aware of what the body at your back is doing during all of this, though his words— _“You always cum so fuckin’ good for me…”_ —do manage to break through the haze.

Though a bit lascivious, there’s no denying the sentence’s loving undertone, and the sentiment grounds you. You tilt your head further back against your lover’s shoulder in search of his eyes only to find that his gaze is already on you. Though there is certainly a measure of lust dancing about in those endless dark pools, there is also longing of a different sort. Seeing such adoration, such  _love_ , so nakedly displayed makes your heart lurch in the best of ways.

“I love you.”  
“ _Te amo._ ”

You can’t help but to smile at the declaration spoken in tandem, though in two different languages. Javi’s lips pull up into a smile of their own before capturing yours in a kiss. There’s still too much want between you for the kiss to dwell in the realm of sweet for long, and soon the simple press of lips turns into something full of teeth and tongue and need. The slightly awkward positioning sees the kiss breaking before either of you are truly ready for its end, but it’s just as well since, despite the growing heat between you, the water is starting to go cold.

The short trip from the tub to the bed is full of wandering hands and breathy giggles though once you fall into the mattress’s welcoming embrace all levity is immediately crushed under the weight of your lust. Hands find your hips then, but instead of sinking into your warmth like you expect him to, Javi positions you so that you’re on your side before fitting himself against your back. His still-straining cock feels like a firebrand from where it sits trapped in between you and you find yourself grinding against it just to hear him moan out your name—and he does, though your efforts also earn you a swat against your raised hip. The strike isn’t nearly hard enough to warrant it, but he still soothes the skin there with a gentle swirl of fingers that is just this side of tickling. That same hand soon slides down the length of your thigh until he reaches your knee and your breathing speeds up in anticipation for what you know is coming next.

Javier’s sigh as he finally slides into you is the embodiment of contentment. The hand that had been supporting your knee lowers so that your leg is resting against his while his lips find the sensitive skin just below your ear. “Oh  _amor_ —you feel  _so good_ ,” he tells you in between peppered kisses.

Your reply comes in the form of a reedy moan as you grind back into him as much as your positioning will allow. He pulls you closer before winding his arm upwards, stopping just long enough to give a nipple a teasing tweak, until he’s able to caress the skin of your neck. The feeling of his thumb against your pulse point is enough to leave you clenching against him and that sets him to sighing out a broken moan. Your hand finds his then and, after bringing it upwards to place a kiss to his palm, you slide it down to where you’re joined. He takes the hint with a huff of laughter, his fingers orchestrating your ecstasy with their deft precision.

“ _Ooooh **fuck**_. That’s it sweetheart, that’s it,” he coos as your movements become just that bit more insistent. “You’re so close, I can feel it— _ah!_   _Tan apretado que me llevas tan bien_ … Let me feel you,  _amor_ —let me feel you cum with this dick in your tight little hole…”

And really, when he asks like that how can you do anything but comply?

Already sensitive from his earlier attentions and more than ready to cum, you allow yourself to fall away for the second time. His name rips its way out of your throat in a jagged, needy yell as you curl in on yourself. The body at your back is relentless as he continues to work you over with fingers and cock both and it’s quickly becoming  _too much_ , but you don’t say the word that will free you from this divine torture. You do, however, seize his wrist and squeeze.

Javi’s chuckle is dark as his motions taper off before stilling completely. “ _Tan bueno para mi_ _._  Think you got one more in you,  _amorcito?_ ”

Though your body is emphatically screaming  _no_ , previous encounters tell you that you’ve got that and then some. You’re more than able, not to mention  _willing_ , to give him what he needs—even if it means you’ll more than likely be walking with a limp because of it.

With your assent Javier rolls you onto your stomach before taking your hips in hand and pulling your ass up to level. When he slides into you again it’s in one smooth motion that pushes the air clean out of your lungs. The pace that he sets up this time is much harsher than what you’d been getting moments before;  _that_ had been lovemaking,  _this_  is fucking. The feel of him slamming into you is almost more than your overstimulated body can handle, but behind the discomfort lays a thread of pleasure. You chase down the feeling, grasping at its tendrils and urging them to unfurl with every backwards press of your hips and stuttered breath. It doesn’t take long for the first lick of desire’s flames to start up again and soon you’re calling out with just as much ardor as your man.

You can tell he’s nearing his end when he bows himself over you. His thrusts come harder and impossibly deeper, his thick cock dragging along your walls and over that spot inside you that always leaves you shuddering. His breaths are little more than pants and his words all slur as he grinds against you with each push forward.

“Yes, baby,  _yes_ ,” you groan out as you continue to work your hips against him, “ _fuck me._  Fuck me ‘til you cum.”

Your words seem to be all the push he needs.

Teeth sink into your shoulder as he thrusts once, twice, three times before pushing in deep. His release coats your insides in hot, thick spurts that drip out of you when he pulls out several long seconds later.

“ _Fuck._ ” He bites off the word in a way that leaves you both laughing as he collapses next to you.

You make a noise of agreement as you move to slide down next to him, but a hand against your shoulder has you stopping short. The annoyance laced confusion that you initially feel morphs into something that makes your mouth go dry as you look down at him.

“You told me you had one more in you,  _amor_ — _you owe me._ ”

He slides up to sitting then before pulling you down into his lap and kissing you senseless. Every lick of his tongue into your mouth and shared breath brings you one step closer to the arousal that had only just started to wane. All the while wandering hands avoid the most obvious areas, choosing instead to tweak and tease all the spots that have long since been discovered on nights of unhurried exploration. When he finally does slip his hands back between your legs some long minutes later you’re aching for his touch. After a few teasing strokes, gentle, but insistent hands guide you so that you’re lying on your back before he moves you hover over you; his kiss is slow and deep as he teases your entrance with his fingers once more. You miss the feeling of his lips against yours when he pulls away, but the open mouth kisses that trail ever downwards more than make up for the loss.

The first touch of his tongue against your heated flesh leaves you moaning, and when he closes his lips around you and sucks you nearly sob. Your hand automatically reaches down to tangle itself in his still-damp locks to guide him, a thing that Javi allows with a moan of approval. The feeling of his willing mouth moving against you is enough to make you want to fuck his face,  _hard_ , until you cum, but some distant part of your mind that’s still concerned with things like courtesy has your hips stopping mid-thrust.

Two sharp scrapes against his scalp is your silent call for permission.  
His reply comes in the form of two taps against your hip— _You can._

Your sigh is explosive as you jerk your hips against his mouth with abandon. Your garbled, half-formed words of praise are cut with hitched breaths and groans—a mildly embarrassing combination, but there’s little else for it. Thankfully the only thing more obscene than your desperate chorus is that of your man’s. If there were ever any doubts in your mind as to just how much he loves the taste of you they’re put well and truly to rest in this moment. His moans hit like shockwaves as they reverberate through you, and you find yourself tangling your free hand with his just to ground yourself; it’s clear that he’s getting off from your indulgence and that knowledge is enough to end you.

Your orgasm unspools low in your belly, its thrumming hard and in time with the beat of your heart. Like the first of the session, it travels throughout the entirety of your body with an intensity that leaves you reeling. Javi pulls away just long enough to swallow before lapping at you like a kitten in an effort to keep you floating for as long as possible and it’s good,  _so fucking good_ , but steadily getting closer to falling on the wrong side of the pain/pleasure border. This time you do use your safeword, punctuated by an insistent tug at his locks that sees him sliding up the length of your body to lie next to you. As you trade lazy kisses you can’t help but to moan at the taste of yourself on his tongue, though you know you don’t enjoy the flavor nearly as much as he does—the hardening cock pressed against your side is proof of that.

When your fingers brush against his dick his eyes go dreamy even as he sucks in a sharp breath. “ _Oh_   _mi amor._  Always so good to me…”

“No better than you are to me, love,” you assure him, lips cuddling in against the underside of his jaw in the sweetest approximation of a kiss.

 

•················· :• ۞ •: ················· :••: ۞ :••: ················· :• ۞ •: ·················•

 

###  _So Good to Me {M!Reader}_

_Translations:  
(*insert witty comment about how shitty Google Translate is here*)_

  * _Guapo—Handsome_
  * _Querido—Darling_
  * _Joder—Fuck_
  * _Te amo—I love you_
  * _Tan apretado que me llevas tan bien—So tight, you take me so good_
  * _Un buen chico para mi—Such a good boy for me_
  * _Amorcito—Sweetheart_



“Feels good,  _guapo?_ ”

Contentment turns your replying hum into something more akin to a purr as you allow yourself to sink further down into the sudsy water. You stretch out as much as the confining tub will allow—and given that you’re currently in one of the finest hotels that Blackwater has to offer that’s actually quite far. The porcelain tub is wide enough to hold both you and your lover comfortably, a thing that the pair of you have taken advantage of several times over the course of your stay; sometimes testing the integrity of the claw-foot legs, others, like now, just enjoying the decadence of a hot bath.

With Javier’s sturdy frame at your back, his strong hands kneading at your shoulders, and the floral scented steam curling up around you to dance in the day’s dying light you’re positive that you’ve found your version of heaven. Between the lack of decent sleeping arrangements back at camp and the strain that your lifestyle puts on the body you  _need_  this, and your man’s all too happy to give it to you. Javi’s hands follow the curve of your shoulders upwards until they’re at either side of your neck; with his long fingers caging the length of it, his thumbs rub firm lines along the back of the column before stopping at the base and digging in. The little circles that he rubs into your pliant flesh feel amazing and you find yourself hunching forward slightly to give him more room to work. The body at your back shakes with silent laughter at your actions though he does accept your invitation.

Any lingering stiffness soon meets its end as he continues to work your muscles over with all the precision and care that you’ve come to expect from him. Everything that he holds dear—from his guitar to his gun—are all meticulously maintained, so it hardly comes as a surprise to you that he puts so much effort into helping to keep you whole and healthy—after all, he’s told you time and again that you’re his most treasured jewel.

When a particularly stubborn knot finally melts away under his touch you can hardly stop the moan that pushes its way past your lips, and given what your little noises of pleasure do to him you don’t rightly want to. He’s been half-hard since you both submerged yourselves, and your efforts to bring him all the way before having your way have been rebuffed in the time since— _“Just relax, baby. Let me take care of you,”_  he had breathed into your ear as he gently, but firmly removed your wandering hands from his body. It was a sweet thought from an even sweeter man, but you’ve obliged him for long enough, you think.

Apparently he shares your thoughts on the matter because for the first time since this all started your subtle grind against his crotch doesn’t earn any tuts. Instead Javi lets out a moan of his own as he pulls you in against his chest. His hands are just as busy as they had been before, though instead of relieving tension he seeks to build it within you in the most delicious of ways. Blunt nails scrape over a nipple, teasing it to hardness, while the fingers of his opposite hand glide over the skin of your stomach leaving goosebumps in their wake; all the while he ruts against your back with jerky little motions that become more and more desperate with each grind of his hips. By the time he slides his hand down to your center your legs have long since parted and you’re more than ready for his touch. He slides along the length of your hardness at a maddeningly slow pace before gripping your cock at its base. The water has left his calluses much softer than usual, but you can still feel their presence as his fingers stroke you in that way that always leaves you weak.

“ _Mmmm_. Like that,  _querido_ _?_ ”

His question is a rhetorical one—the man knows your body better than you do at this point—he just wants to hear you. You’ve been gasping your pleasure to the ceiling all this time, but you know what it is that he’s waiting for, and you’re more than willing to give it to him.

His name falls from your lips in time with the roll of your hips and his moans ring out in reply just as you expect them to. Nips then, sharp and stinging, against your shoulder, neck, jaw—wherever his mouth can reach he sinks his teeth in with only the occasional kiss or lick trailing to soothe the mild ache. When his second hand moves down to cup your balls you start to whine only to have the sound stick in your throat when he rolls them against his palm; the hand around your dick squeezes that little bit tighter and you’re quick to grind up into it in search of more stimulation. Javi’s legs lock more firmly around your frame then in an attempt to keep you from disrupting the water too much with your thrusts, but his efforts prove to be in vain as you still manage to get a good deal of it over the rolled sides. Chuckles, teases, and praise are all breathed against your ear as he watches your eager display even as his own show of arousal presses hard, hot, and heavy against your back.

“ _Joder_ … You’re almost there,  _amor_. Almost there already…” The sweet sigh of his words are well at odds with your desperate cadence and the almost comical sounds of the sloshing liquid.

Though white-hot pleasure is steadily coursing it way through your veins, there’s still a feeling of emptiness that cannot be ignored. You want— _need_ — Javier inside you, but at the same time you don’t want him to stop any of what he’s doing. Of course your man realizes your need, he always does, and before you can even lament the loss of pressure against your sac he’s urging you down lower against his chest. As you settle in you can hear the sounds of the tin of Vaseline being jostled about on the low table beside the tub; it’s awkward work to slick up his fingers with just one hand, but he manages it well enough and you soon reap the benefits of his ingenuity. The first finger that slides into you leaves you sighing, while the second one has you groaning out his name. Blind hands reach back in search of some part of him,  _any part_ , in an attempt to keep yourself from floating away on the tide of ecstasy that his steady pumping creates; when you finally find his jaw he chuckles a bit before laying a kiss against your palm.

“More,  _please_ ,” you gasp out and the request leaves your man moaning. He’s quick to give you what you want and the feel of a third finger stretching you is a special kind of bliss. With pleasure coming at you from all sides you hardly know what to do with yourself. Your breath turns shaky and your thrusts sharp as you both do all you can to chase down your orgasm—though Javier’s input doesn’t just stop at the physical. The playful banter that he’d been keeping up initially has since devolved into filth that would’ve no doubt left you blushing were you not so far gone. With every new word uttered you feel the coil of your pleasure twisting tighter and tighter and then–

“Let me feel you come undone,  _amor_ …”

You’re not sure if it’s the purr of his request or the trailing scrape of teeth over the shell of your ear that does it for you, but in the end you figure it doesn’t really matter because you’re falling into bliss. Pleasure washes over you in waves that pulse out from your center all the way down to the tips of your toes and up through your scalp. You’re only vaguely aware of what the body at your back is doing during all of this, though his words— _“You always cum so fuckin’ good for me…”_ —do manage to break through the haze.

Though a bit lascivious, there’s no denying the sentence’s loving undertone, and the sentiment grounds you. You tilt your head further back against your lover’s shoulder in search of his eyes only to find that his gaze is already on you. Though there is certainly a measure of lust dancing about in those endless dark pools, there is also longing of a different sort. Seeing such adoration, such  _love_ , so nakedly displayed makes your heart lurch in the best of ways.

“I love you.”  
“ _Te amo._ ”

You can’t help but to smile at the declaration spoken in tandem, though in two different languages. Javi’s lips pull up into a smile of their own before capturing yours in a kiss. There’s still too much want between you for the kiss to dwell in the realm of sweet for long, and soon the simple press of lips turns into something full of teeth and tongue and need. The slightly awkward positioning sees the kiss breaking before either of you are truly ready for its end, but it’s just as well since, despite the growing heat between you, the water is starting to go cold.

The short trip from the tub to the bed is full of wandering hands and breathy giggles though once you fall into the mattress’s welcoming embrace all levity is immediately crushed under the weight of your lust. He prepares you both then (the amount of Vaseline tins scattered around the room is borderline ludicrous, honestly), but when his hands find your hips again Javi doesn’t sink into your warmth like you expect him to. Instead he positions you so that you’re on your side before fitting himself against your back. His still-straining cock feels like a firebrand from where it sits trapped in between you and you find yourself grinding against it just to hear him moan out your name—and he does, though your efforts also earn you a swat against your raised hip. The strike isn’t nearly hard enough to warrant it, but he still soothes the skin there with a gentle swirl of fingers that is just this side of tickling. That same hand soon slides down the length of your thigh until he reaches your knee and your breathing speeds up in anticipation for what you know is coming next.

Javier’s sigh as he finally slides into you is the embodiment of contentment. The hand that had been supporting your knee lowers so that your leg is resting against his while his lips find the sensitive skin just below your ear. “Oh  _amor_ —you feel  _so good_ ,” he tells you in between peppered kisses.

Your reply comes in the form of a reedy moan as you grind back into him as much as your positioning will allow. He pulls you closer before winding his arm upwards, stopping just long enough to give a nipple a teasing tweak, until he’s able to caress the skin of your neck. The feeling of his thumb against your pulse point is enough to leave you clenching against him and that sets him to sighing out a broken moan. Your own hand sides downwards then to wrap around your weeping cock, though when he hears your gasp of pleasure his hand is quick to wrap itself around yours. Practice sees you both finding a comfortable rhythm in just a few strokes, and soon every press of Javi’s hips helps to push you further into your shared grip.

“ _Ooooh **fuck**_. That’s it sweetheart, that’s it,” he coos as your movements become just that bit more insistent. “You’re so close, I can feel it— _ah!_   _Tan apretado que me llevas tan bien_ … Let me feel you,  _amor_ —let me feel you cum with this dick in your tight little ass…”

And really, when he asks like that how can you do anything but comply?

Already sensitive from his earlier attentions and more than ready to cum, you allow yourself to fall away for the second time. His name rips its way out of your throat in a jagged, needy yell as you curl in on yourself. The body at your back is relentless as he continues to work you over with fingers and cock both and it’s quickly becoming  _too much_ , but you don’t say the word that will free you from this divine torture. You do, however, seize his wrist and squeeze.

Javi’s chuckle is dark as his motions taper off before stilling completely. “ _Un buen chico para mi._  Think you got one more in you,  _amorcito?_ ”

Though your body is emphatically screaming  _no_ , previous encounters tell you that you’ve got that and then some. You’re more than able, not to mention  _willing_ , to give him what he needs—even if it means you’ll more than likely be walking with a limp because of it.

With your assent Javier rolls you onto your stomach before taking your hips in hand and pulling your ass up to level. When he slides into you again it’s in one smooth motion that pushes the air clean out of your lungs. The pace that he sets up this time is much harsher than what you’d been getting moments before;  _that_ had been lovemaking,  _this_  is fucking. The feel of him slamming into you is almost more than your overstimulated body can handle, but behind the discomfort lays a thread of pleasure. You chase down the feeling, grasping at its tendrils and urging them to unfurl with every backwards press of your hips and stuttered breath. It doesn’t take long for the first lick of desire’s flames to start up again and soon you’re calling out with just as much ardor as your man.

You can tell he’s nearing his end when he bows himself over you. His thrusts come harder and impossibly deeper, his thick cock dragging along your walls and over that spot inside you that always leaves you shuddering. His breaths are little more than pants and his words all slur as he grinds against you with each push forward.

“Yes, baby,  _yes_ ,” you groan out as you continue to work your hips against him, “ _fuck me._  Fuck me ‘til you cum.”

Your words seem to be all the push he needs.

Teeth sink into your shoulder as he thrusts once, twice, three times before pushing in deep. His release coats your insides in hot, thick spurts that drip out of you when he pulls out several long seconds later.

“ _Fuck._ ” He bites off the word in a way that leaves you both laughing as he collapses next to you.

You make a noise of agreement as you move to slide down next to him, but a hand against your shoulder has you stopping short. The annoyance laced confusion that you initially feel morphs into something that makes your mouth go dry as you look down at him.

“You told me you had one more in you,  _amor_ — _you owe me._ ”

He slides up to sitting then before pulling you down into his lap and kissing you senseless. Every lick of his tongue into your mouth and shared breath brings you one step closer to the arousal that had only just started to wane. All the while wandering hands avoid the most obvious areas, choosing instead to tweak and tease all the spots that have long since been discovered on nights of unhurried exploration. When he finally does grasp at your cock some long minutes later it’s hard and leaking enough precum that he’s able to glide down it with ease. After a few teasing strokes, gentle, but insistent hands guide you so that you’re lying on your back before he moves to hover over you; his kiss is slow and deep as he thumbs the area just under your head. You miss the feeling of his lips against yours when he pulls away, but the open mouth kisses that trail ever downwards more than make up for the loss.

The first touch of his tongue against your head leaves you moaning, and when he closes his mouth around the tip and sucks you nearly sob. Your hand automatically reaches down to tangle itself in his still-damp locks and guide him along your length, a thing that Javi allows with a moan of approval. He relaxes his jaw as you push him  _down-down-down_  until his nose is pressed against the nest of hair at your middle. The feeling of his throat opening up around you is enough to make you want to fuck his face,  _hard_ , until you cum, but some distant part of your mind that’s still concerned with things like courtesy has your hips stopping mid-thrust.

Two sharp scrapes against his scalp is your silent call for permission.  
His reply comes in the form of two taps against your hip— _You can._

Your sigh is explosive as you jerk your hips against his mouth with abandon. Your garbled, half-formed words of praise are cut with hitched breaths and groans—a mildly embarrassing combination, but there’s little else for it. Thankfully the only thing more obscene than your desperate chorus is that of your man’s. If there were ever any doubts in your mind as to just how much he loves having your dick in his mouth they’re put well and truly to rest in this moment. His moans hit like shockwaves as they reverberate over your length and you find yourself tangling your free hand with his just to ground yourself; it’s clear that he’s getting off from your indulgence and that knowledge is enough to end you.

Your orgasm unspools low in your belly, its thrumming hard and in time with the beat of your heart. Like the first of the session, it travels throughout the entirety of your body with an intensity that leaves you reeling. Javi pulls away just long enough to swallow before lapping at your head like a kitten in an effort to keep you floating for as long as possible and it’s good,  _so fucking good_ , but steadily getting closer to falling on the wrong side of the pain/pleasure border. This time you do use your safeword, punctuated by an insistent tug at his locks that sees him sliding up the length of your body to lie next to you. As you trade lazy kisses you can’t help but to moan at the taste of your seed on his tongue, though you know you don’t enjoy the flavor nearly as much as he does—the hardening cock pressed against your side is proof of that.

When your fingers brush against his dick his eyes go dreamy even as he sucks in a sharp breath. “ _Oh_   _mi amor._  Always so good to me…”

“No better than you are to me, love,” you assure him, lips cuddling in against the underside of his jaw in the sweetest approximation of a kiss.


	13. Javier Escuella x GN!Reader in: Don’t Hesitate {Not-SFW ABCs—M is for ‘Motivation’}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > _“You know, you’re damn sexy when you’re all riled up, **mi amor**.”_  
> “Oh?”  
>  _“ **Mmhmm**. All that fire… **Fuck** …”_
> 
>   
> In which your protective instincts *ahem* give rise to something quite other in Javier. 

**_M_ ** _is for ‘Motivation’ (What turns them on, gets them going)_

 

Honestly it doesn’t take much lol.

When he’s around you, he’s always a little turned on, tbh—like at steady 10 percent. And then you’ll do something like show off a skill you have, or do something badass, or just fucking  _smile_ and he just melts a lil bit more. I could give you a wall of text, but I think bullet points will serve us all better so…

Here’s a top five list of turn-ons. Again this is in no real order. This one’ll also have a ficlet as I actually had an  _~idea~_  for it, Mister Krabs…

####  _1\. Physical contact_

  * Now this isn’t to say that he’s some overly-hormonal teenager that creams his pants every time his s/o touches him, but he does like the intimacy that touch brings.
  * Back in ‘C’ I mentioned that I canon his love language to be highly tactile in nature.
  * Some of his actions in cutscenes have lead me to believe that he’s not big on physical contact—I know this sounds contradictory to what I just said, but follow me around the room with this.
  * Because he isn’t that big on casual touches, when he does break the touch barrier, and more importantly, allows you to do the same, it’s a major show of trust.
  * It’ll start out all casual like.
    * A brush of fingers as he hands you something here, a pat on the shoulder for a job well done there…
    * …then will come the more purposeful touches—a helping hand on and off of horses regardless of if you actually need it, a hand at the small of your back as he guides you through a crowded area, a minor adjustment to your clothes, an arm slung carelessly over your shoulders as you walk and talk—all things that can be seen as caring but still basically platonic as you both test the waters…
    * …and from there gestures that cannot be mistaken for anything other than interest—hugs offered up for no reason other than he hasn’t seen you in a while and that go on for a touch longer than necessary, holding your hand, a brush of fingers over your cheek as he looks at you with a fondness that seems to grow with each passing day…
    * Soon you’ll be touching each other all the time and for the least things until you won’t be able to remember a time when you weren’t so damn hands-y with one another.
  * Once your relationship ventures out of the realm of the platonic is when things really start to get  _interesting_.
    * Expect lots of hugs—he’s particularly fond of coming from behind to nuzzle into your neck—as well as hands on your hips as often as you’ll allow it.
    * He’ll often pull you down into his lap for a cuddle, onlookers be damned.
      * _“There’s no need to be shy, **amorcito**. Let them look, let them all see what they’re missing.”_
    * Lots of kisses.
      * How many?
      * _So many._
      * He’ll smooch your eyes, nose, cheeks, mouth, neck, fingers—yes to all and everything in between because he cannot get enough of you!
        * Also don’t be surprised if he kisses you while you’re in the middle of a sentence. He’s not trying to shut you up (usually), it’s just hard to contain the extreme bursts of affection that so often take him when he’s with you.
  * At the end of the day Javier’s a giver whose greatest wish is to just be near you.
  * The closeness—both physically and emotionally—reinforces the bond the you share and all the emotions that this invokes has to be expressed somehow.
    * Sometimes that’s via a love-sick glance, other’s it’s in the form of a song written for your ears only, and others still it comes in the form of a gift-wrapped parcel that contains an item that reminded him of you.
    * While these are all nice and well, his favorite way to show you how much he cares is in the bedroom.
    * Sex for him is about more than pleasure; it’s the purest and most honest form of connection to be had between lovers.
    * Words can fail in so many different ways, but bodies always seem to know how to say with the mind cannot always articulate.
    * And actions, he finds, always carry more weight.
      * He can and will tell you until the end of his days how much he adores you, but he’ll always,  _always_ be just as willing to show you.



####  _2\. Witty comebacks and good conversations_

  * Bonus points if you can manage to shut up a drunken Bill, give Dutch pause while he’s in the middle of one of his tirades, or get under Micah’s skin.
  * Honestly just being a good conversationalist in general does it for him, really.
    * I headcanon that at first Javier’s not much of a talker—well at least about anything too deep.
      * Like I said before, dude has his fair share of trust issues, so at first he’ll let you do like 90% of the talking with his 10% being composed almost entirely of questions.
      * He likes to get to know people better before he starts letting them into his world in any true capacity, so once he does start talking expect a lot of friendly, but ultimately empty banter for a bit.
      * You know he’s thinks of you as a true friend once he starts having deep, intimate conversations with you.
        * Expect lots of philosophical questions and debates; he wants to see where you’re at and how compatible your ideals are. He doesn’t buy into the whole ‘opposites attract’ theory. Having differing opinions is fine, but by his estimation there are certain key things people have to agree on if they’re going to be something more than just friends.
      * Conversations about his life before the gang—i.e. his life in Mexico, working as a bounty hunter, his family, his first true love—won’t come until you’re a couple. He needs to feel totally safe in your hands before he shares these parts of himself with you.
      * And when he starts to speak of a future, a  _real one_ , one where you make a life for yourselves outside of the gang that’s filled with love and laughter and a family of your own, well… That’s when you know you’ve got him, heart and soul.
  * He doesn’t need or expect you to be the smartest person in the world, but he does like passion.
    * Talk to him about what you love. Seeing your eyes light up as you talk about the things you hold dear is everything to him!!
    * Expect lots of love-sick smiles, hand squeezes, and little kisses—both to your hands and face—while you talk as he thinks you’re really at your cutest when you’re nerding out about these things.
  * And share your knowledge!
    * Life on the run has taught him that you never know when the most random piece of knowledge or skill will turn out to be useful.
    * If something you’ve shown or taught him helps to get him and-or those he’s riding with out of a tough spot he will be certain to— ** _ahem_** — _thoroughly thank you_  at the earliest opportunity.
  * I also feel like having good sense of humor ties into this.
    * I don’t imagine him to be a particularly easily amused man, but he does have a good sense of humor.
    * Speaking from personal experience, it’s much easier to find the humor in things when you’ve been through a lot of fuckery in your life. If given the choice between crying or laughing over a thing I’ll pick the latter, thank you, and I think Javi’s the same.
      * _(Me, projecting? It’s about as likely as you think.)_
    * That being said he just doesn’t get people who tend towards the stoic like Charles and Strauss.
      * Like there’s so much to smile about, guys! Sure things are bad, but they can always be worse!
        * To that end I would imagine that for a time it was his life’s goal to get Charles to crack a smile, and once he achieved that to make him laugh hard. That he was able to do both is a point of pride for him.
    * If you do run a bit dryer in your humor, that’s okay!
    * You prefer more slap-stick/physical type comedy? That’s cool too!
      * Just please don’t legit hurt yourself in the process. He’ll never forgive himself if you injure yourself just to get a laugh out of him.
    * At the end of the day, it doesn’t really matter how you express your humor, just as long as there’s some to be found.
    * The only thing I think he wouldn’t approve of is super offensive/sadistic humor. Little jabs here and there are one thing, but it shouldn’t actually hurt, ya know?
    * But yeah, if you can make him laugh he’s gonna want to kiss you, and if he start kissing you…
    * _Well…_
    * That rarely stays chaste for long.



####  _3\. Combat skills_

  * While he does strike me as the type that would like to take care of his s/o after a fashion, he really does love a person that can take care of themselves.
  * After all he can’t always be around, much as he would like to be.
  * And the life he leads is dangerous; yours is too, if you’re actually in the gang.
  * Honestly if you’re not in the gang he’ll appreciate this even more as he’ll be away more than not and he wants to know that you’re as safe as possible during those times.
  * Watching you wield a gun with precision, or throwing hands if HtH is more your speed is just plain H O T .
    * He’ll be practically glowing with pride after you’ve just laid your opponents out.
    * Lots of smirking and  _“That’s my amor”_ ’s, etc. to be had after the dust has settled.
    * He’ll also brag on you to all the others at camp; doesn’t matter if they were there to witness your awesomeness firsthand.
      * Oh I’m sorry Arthur, are you tired of hearing about how Javi’s s/o took down a man twice their size with a swiftness and precision that most couldn’t even dream of come close to?
        * Don’t worry, it gets better with its fifth retelling.
    * He might be willing to let you continue your display of prowess if you  ~~ask nicely~~  grab him by the bandana and lead him back to wherever you’ll be laying your heads that night.
  * Bonus points if you’re good with a knife!
    * He finds it WAY sexy if you can handle a blade as well as him.
    * And if you’re actually  _more_  skilled?
      * Expect to be pulled into the longest, hardest, most lust-fueled kiss the minute it’s safe enough to do so.
      * Also you’ll be getting a hotel room that night. Other gang members have been known to pitch in because they already know what’s coming and don’t want to hear all that lmao.
  * And speaking of knife skills…



####  _4\. Five-finger fillet_

  * Javi isn’t the type to wrap you in cotton. As I said: he likes a s/o that can take care of themselves.
  * So if you challenge him or anyone else to a game of FFF he won’t stop you.
    * With the exception of you being too drunk. Mixing sharp things and too much booze is a no-no kids! Remember, safety first!!
  * If you’re good enough to go more than several rounds with him he’ll be impressed.
  * If you beat him he’ll be rock hard guaranteed. If you’re not that good at it no worries! He’ll totally give you some tips and pointers*.
    * _***Note** : this will probably end with him kissing at your bloody fingers before bandaging you up._
      * And this will end in a makeout session. How far it goes after this is up to you, but know that his vote is for hitting the bedroll so he can show you how proud he is of your improvement.
  * Once you’re just as good, if not better than him, totally expect to be put to work by Dutch.
    * Y’all know he’s very ‘waste not, want not’; the pair of you have the skills, the camp’s got the bills, and this is one legit( _ish_ ) way of making money that  _usually_ doesn’t end with guns being drawn.
      * Again, a hotel room may be needed after this depending on how well you preform.



####  _5\. Lip biting_

  * Remember that oral fixation thing we talked (rather extensively, at this point) about? Well here it is, striking again.
  * Your own or his—doesn’t matter much to him, it’s all p. sexy.
  * He honestly isn’t sure which he finds hotter—when you bite your lip without thinking or when you do so while giving him  _The Look_ ™.
    * Don’t you make that face at me.  _You know_  what look I’m talking about.
    * If you’re giving him  _The Look_ ™ then expect him to snatch you up at the earliest opportunity.
    * If you’ve been teasing him for an extended period of time don’t expect too much discretion on his end. After all, he couldn’t care less if everyone knows what you’re up to, so take that into consideration.
  * If you’re doing it out of concentration and-or subconsciously then expect soft, sweet kisses.
    * Usually placed on your nape as he pulls you flush against his chest.
    * You’re both busy people, and he understands that his libido has to take a backseat to work, so he’s mostly just gaging your interest at this point. Ya know, priming you for what’s to come once you’re no longer bound by duty.
    * He’ll probably whisper in your ear—how…  _detailed_ … these whisperings are depends on just how worked up he is.
    * Also expect to receive  _The Look_ ™ yourself as he departs.
    * Though if he’s horny enough, and your task is something he can help with, you can bet your sweet ass that he’ll get in there so you can get done faster.
      * The others—Ms. Grimshaw and Hosea especially—will tease him when he does this.
        * Susan will also spare you a knowing smirk and a nod of approval. She lives for shit like this lol.



 

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###  _Don’t Hesitate_

_Translations:  
(Damn Google! Back at it again with the shitty translations!)_

  * Pendejo—Idiot/asshole; seems a like a catchall insult, honestly
  * ‘Mano—Buddy/pal
  * Amorcito—Sweetheart



 

“And a word of advice, _pendejo_ : the next time you pull a gun on me,” you rear your foot back before drilling it into the man’s already battered ribs and earning a winded  ** _oof_** , “ _don’t fuckin’ hesitate_.”

“I don’t think he’s gonna be in any condition to pull anything on anyone anytime soon,  _mi amor_.” Javi’s words are pitched at a volume meant only for your ears as he places a steadying hand on your shoulder. The motion has you stopping short of landing another kick on the useless mass of humanity at your feet, and that’s probably for the best as the man can hardly pay his debts if he’s too injured to function.

Normally you try not to get involved in Strauss’ collection work as the thought of exploiting people who are already down and out doesn’t exactly sit well with you, but this particular gentleman isn’t the Austrian’s usual target. Daniel Martins, a.k.a. the overgrown man-child at your feet, is little more than a privileged brat sent out west to oversee the family’s interests by a father long since done with his antics. Despite his cakewalk of a job and the large check it nets him, he still receives a stipend from his family back in New York. Altogether it’s more money than some will ever see in the entirety of their lifetime, and yet it still isn’t enough for him.

Someone had put him contact with the Austrian, and thinking he would be a sure thing, the older man was quick to lend him the money. Martins had been all smiles when taking the wad of bills, but when it came time to pay…

Nobody had been happy to see Strauss limp into camp this afternoon with bent frames and a black eye, but for some reason the sight struck a particularly strong cord in you. He might not have been the favorite of most in camp, but dammit he was  _family_. Of course Javi was the first person to notice the shift in your mood and after the older man had been patched up he suggested that you all take a trip back into the city to pay Mister Martins a visit. That had led to you cornering the fucker in one of the nicer cathouses that the city offered and  _that_  ended with you chasing him through a maze of narrow alleyways—the culmination of which was a dead end, a rapid disarming, and you finally giving the asshole exactly what he deserved. You hadn’t even realized that you’d outpaced your man until he was behind you a minute or so later huffing up a storm; those huffs soon transformed into spirts of laughter as he listened to you air your grievances with kicks serving as your punctuation.

Now he pulls you away from your quasi-victim with a gentle hand to the elbow; said hand gives you a little squeeze as his eyes search yours— _You good?_  
For your part you just huff out a breath before giving a half shrug— _Yeah, I’m fine._

Your silent exchange takes all of a few seconds, just a small (and much needed) reprieve between lovers before getting back to work.

“Now we’re taking whatever you have on you for now  _‘mano_ ,” Javier starts as he crouches down next to Martins’ bloody face, “but given all the trouble you’ve caused us I’m thinkin’ you owe us a bit more. That seems fair, don’t you think?”

Martins’ only reply is a high pitched whine.  
The sound pulls a dark chuckle from your man.

“See! I knew you were a good, fair man! You just needed someone to remind you of that…”

 

:••:•:·················••:۞:••·················•:•۞•:•·················••:۞:••·················:•:••:

 

“I think you will find more use for his clothes than I, Mister Escuella,” Strauss comments as he rifles through the fat stack of bills in his hands. To those that don’t know him well the statement’s little more than his usual dry fare, but you know that the barely noticeable uptick in his tone speaks of an amusement you’d be hard pressed to see on his face. “But please take this, for your troubles.”

You each look down at the ten dollar note he’s handed you, then at each other, before looking back at him. You clear your throat before asking, “Not to look a gift, erm, lender in the mouth, but… this is a bit much, don’t you think?”

“Think of it as recompense. I know that you’re just doing a job, but your efforts are appreciated nonetheless.” The hand he places on his still-crooked frames speaks of a gratitude that goes deeper than a proverbial pat on the shoulder for a job well done; his offer to take care of your dues to the camp out of his own personal stores is further proof of this.

“I can only assume that the two of you will be renting a room in town for the night?” he continues on, face as impassive as ever.

Javier’s reply comes in the form of an arm pulling you close and a smile that can only be described as  _devilish_. Thankfully the older man’s sense of decorum is strong enough to keep him from commenting on the display or the resulting reddening of your cheeks.

“Of course. Very well, I’ll inform Dutch upon my arrival. Do try to keep yourselves out of trouble.”

Goodbyes are exchanged and then you’re headed in opposite directions.

Now that you’re not chasing an over-entitled asshole though its streets, you find that the budding city is charming in its own way. Not yet the soot-covered mess of Saint Denis, nor the orderly bustle of Blackwater, it has just enough touches of the old west to leave you at ease, but enough amenities to make your stay truly comfortable. The hotel you’re heading for is a ways away yet and you’re glad that Javi had the presence of mind to bring Boaz along; your anger had narrowed your focus down to a singular point and you’d hopped on Strauss’ wagon without a second thought.

And now, with the rhythmic gait of the horse underneath you and your man seated behind you, you find your gratitude taking on a new form—and if the hands that are steadily rucking your shirt out of your waistband is any indication so is Javi’s. You allow your head to rest lightly against his where it sits perched on your shoulder as you give him a questioning hum. His reply comes in the form of him pulling the last of the cloth out of its tuck before skating callused fingertips up your sides; the feeling of his skin sliding against yours leaves you shivering, and you’re more than a small bit grateful that the shadows of dusk are deep enough to shroud your actions from any passersby.

You feel his smile from where he’s nuzzled his lips into the crook of your neck, though they soon travel upwards so that he can speak directly into your ear. “You know, you’re damn sexy when you’re all riled up,  _mi amor_.”

“Oh?” Though only a single syllable your breath somehow manages to hitch in the middle of it when he pinches at a nipple.

“ _Mmhmm._  All that fire…  _Fuck…_ ”                    

No more words are exchanged after that, none are needed. His lips lave over every inch of skin they can reach while his hands roam freely under your now loose shirt; all the while his steadily hardening cock presses insistently into your backside. It doesn’t take long for you to need more than what his touch is currently supplying and you bear down more fully against the saddle in search of some type of relief. That Javier hisses out a curse at your movements hardly comes as a surprise given that your ass is now pressing directly into his crotch; that a hand leaves the warmth of your top to pull you in further still is just as expected.

“You tryin’ to get something started,  _amorcito_ _?_ ” he half asks, half growls before nipping at the corner of your jaw.

You smirk a bit. “I haven’t the slightest idea what you mean…”

“ _Yeah._   _Okay._ ”

Before you can reply Javi’s other hand is sliding down to your fly and undoing the buttons there, just a few, just enough for him to slip inside. Even with the barrier of your underthings muting his touch his fingers still feel like firebrands as they stroke over flesh that is all too eager for his touch. Your initial gasp turns into a choked mewl as he continues to work you over. Your hips chase after his fingers with desperate little thrusts that pull sounds that are just as needy from the man at your back. He keeps you on the edge of your bliss, pulling away when your moans become too heated, with much needed succor coming in the form of sweet kisses and even sweeter words of praise.

This torture last for minutes that feel like hours as you continue to traverse the city’s dimly lit streets, and by the time you make it to the hitching post outside of the hotel you’re looking about as wrecked as you feel. You have no idea how you’re going to pull yourself together enough to walk into the place and rent a room—“Come on,  _amor_. I need to be inside you,  _now_.”—but you’re sure you’ll manage.

_Somehow._


	14. Javier Escuella x Reader in: Sunshine and Afterglow {Not-SFW ABCs—N is for ‘No’}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > _There are no pressures to be found here in the dawning of this new day, no demands—external or otherwise. There’s only you and him and time made slow by this pocket of calm that you’ve created for yourselves._
> 
>   
> A modern AU in which you and your lover start your day off sweet and slow.  
> 
> 
> :••:•:·················••:۞:••·················•:•۞•:•·················••:۞:••·················:•:••:
> 
>   
> Here I am, yet again back on my late updating bullshit. I have no excuse aside from a lack of inspo. Other things *cough* ~~Cyberpunk 2077, Keanu’s adorable ass, and the OC that’s destined to smooch him~~ *cough* have been absorbing most of my creative energy these days. Sorry about it. Anyways! Ya girl’s been feeling Extra Soft™ these days, so here—have some slow, sleepy, early morning cuddle sex with Javi. I know this ficlet for has fuck all to do with the HC, but I couldn’t think of anything to write for it so… yeah. 

###  _N_ is for _‘No’_ (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

There are few things he won’t at least try once, I’d say. So aside from the obvious things that no one should be dabbling in (i.e. pedo-shit, bestiality, etc.) his hard limits are anything that can result in you being seriously injured. You’re his whole entire world and he’ll be damned if ever allows you to come to harm—especially by his own hand. If you do, for some reason, really feel the need to push something he’s not comfortable with expect your relationship to meet a swift end. Trust and respect are two of the most important things to him both within and without a romantic relationship, so to breach either of those by trying to push/manipulate him into doing something he’s not comfortable with… Yeah, that’s not gonna go well. As I said before, he’s down to try damn near anything, so if he says “No.” then he means it. Hard stop, do not pass go, do not collect $200.

 

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###  _Sunshine and Afterglow_ {F!Reader}

This time around translations—well the one, rather—come courtesy of [this tumblr post](https://hmsts.tumblr.com/post/184519902186/spanish-help-for-writers). I can only assume that if OP’s not a native speaker herself, she’s still far more capable/reliable source than our dear friend Google Translate lol.

  * Cariño—Sweetie



 

The sun’s light filters in, pale and gray, through curtains that try and fail to bar its entry into your bedroom. You sigh sleepily as you turn away from the gentle intrusion, cuddling further into the warm embrace that awaits you. Javier hums his contentment as he pulls you in closer, fingers skating along the length of your spine as he does so, though after a few passes he moves up to your nape to massage the skin there. The motion leaves you sighing again as you wrap yourself more fully around his frame; your knee hooks itself over his hip while his leg presses in to rest between your own, and somehow you manage to get an arm free to play with his hair. The pair of you stay like this for several long moments—not exchanging words, but sharing breaths as you take your enjoyment from just _being_.

There are no pressures to be found here in the dawning of this new day, no demands—external or otherwise. There’s only you and him and time made slow by this pocket of calm that you’ve created for yourselves.

Tangled up as you are, the simple _“I love you”_ that you murmur results in a chaste brush of lips that easily deepens into a true kiss; Javi’s reply comes in the form of a tongue gently lapping at your own some odd seconds later. The kiss you share is a molten thing—all white-hot, liquid passion that isn’t lessened by your unhurried ministrations. Breaths hitch as hands wander creating a need that can only been soothed by hips’ instinctual canting to an ageless unheard rhythm.

Though you are unwilling to part from each other’s touch for too long, the bottoms that you’d worn to sleep necessitates it. The garments are pulled down and kicked away quickly, and then you’re falling back into your previous position. When your centers meet this time there are no barriers there to hinder, only flesh—hot, ready, and more than willing. Your slick folds rub along the hot length of him, pulling breathy curses and stuttered sighs from you both, and driving the crest of your need higher with each pass. It’s good, _so damn good_ , but eventually you need more. A whimpered _“…please…”_ sees the hand that had been keeping you pressed flush against him leaving your lower back to find your clit and Javi rubs slow, purposeful circles against the pearl as his lips suckle at your own.

“Wanna feel you cum, _amor_. Want you to fall apart for me,” he tells you in a voice gone husky with need as he regards you through heavily lidded eyes. “Can you do that, baby? Can you cum for me?” The question sounds even as his pace increases just that little bit more.

All you can do is nod and mewl as your bliss mounts higher and higher until it finally cascades. Pleasure pools out from your core to set you alight as you arch towards your lover, hips still rocking and fingers flexing from where they’ve buried themselves in his inky locks.

Javi greedily sucks down your moans as his hand leaves your middle to rest against your hip, proof of your arousal trailing along your skin as he does. He breaks the kiss some long seconds later with a sigh and a mention of cleaning you up. You mourn the loss of his touch, not least of all because he’s seemingly taken all of the warmth with him, though the feeling of the soft, damp cloth rubbing over your skin does make up for it. Contentment sees you stretching and sighing as he continues in his task, and you earn a laugh-laced kiss for your troubles. When he leaves you this time you burrow into the sheets, comfy and sated, and search for sleep once more; you find it sooner than you expect, its offerings coming in the form an abstract half-dream composed of lights, colors, and mist. When the mattress dips under his weight again you stir just enough to make room, but instead of cuddling in next to you, Javier actually lays on top of you.

Your sleep-slurred hum of confusion is cut off by lips gently brushing the underside of your jaw. “Just lay back _cariño_ , and let me take care of you.”

You have no idea what he means by that until you feel the weight of his cock against your middle. He works his hips against yours in a long, slow glide that leaves your still sensitive cunt quivering. Every new pass of his cock over your folds is a tease that brings him closer and closer to slipping inside of you. The sweetest of tortures, you cannot decide whether you want him to get on with things or continue as he is. The decision is made for you when finally slides home moments— _minutes? hours?_ —later.

You both sigh as he bottoms out, though once his hips start to rock your sounds grow needier. His movements are slow and deliberate, maddeningly so, but you cannot find it in yourself to complain. Life’s daily grind is relentless in its forward march making mornings like this the exception, not the rule, so you always make sure to treasure them for the rare and precious gifts that they are. And so instead of demanding the _more-more- **more**_ that you want, your lips find his to take up their languid dance once more, and the winding of tongues and mingling of breaths add yet another layer of undulation to your movements.

He lays over you—chest-to-chest, arms bracketing your own in an effort to keep all of his weight from bearing down on you; a sweet gesture, that, but not what you need right now. You pull him to you and anchor him there with arms and legs both. He chuckles a bit, but other than loosening an arm for leverage, doesn’t try to move.

The sounds of the world coming to its collective wakening slowly start to seep in from your window, but you pay them no mind. Time is a concept beyond anything either of you are willing contemplate right now; you only accept its passage in the form of the labored breaths that become your seconds, the meeting of hips that measure minutes. There’s no reason to heed it, no need to rush anything, not even in the face of your growing need. Hands caress and grip and pull, while hips continue in their sinuous roll and lips collide—all done at a steady pace that does not change even when the end inevitably finds you.

A whispered sigh of names come in tandem as you fall into bliss together. You float in a sea of ecstasy for as long as your nerves will allow it, riding the waves of pleasure until you wash up on the shores of reality once more. There’s no damp cloth this time, only the light scrape of a shirt that is quickly discarded once its use is done. Spent and boneless, it’s only a matter of moments before sleep claims you both. The sun is much higher in the sky than it was last you acknowledged it, and it renders your curtains all but useless as it finds the least parting to slither through. The brilliant slash of light that stretches across your faces goes unnoticed, however.

After all, the sunshine could never hope to permeate the corona of your afterglow.

 

:••:•:·················••:۞:••·················•:•۞•:•·················••:۞:••·················:•:••:

 

###  _Sunshine and Afterglow_  {GN!Reader}

This time around translations—well the one, rather—come courtesy of [this tumblr post](https://hmsts.tumblr.com/post/184519902186/spanish-help-for-writers). I can only assume that if OP’s not a native speaker herself, she’s still far more capable/reliable source than our dear friend Google Translate lol.

  * Cariño—Sweetie



 

The sun’s light filters in, pale and gray, through curtains that try and fail to bar its entry into your bedroom. You sigh sleepily as you turn away from the gentle intrusion, cuddling further into the warm embrace that awaits you. Javier hums his contentment as he pulls you in closer, fingers skating along the length of your spine as he does so, though after a few passes he moves up to your nape to massage the skin there. The motion leaves you sighing again as you wrap yourself more fully around his frame; your knee hooks itself over his hip while his leg presses in to rest between your own, and somehow you manage to get an arm free to play with his hair. The pair of you stay like this for several long moments—not exchanging words, but sharing breaths as you take your enjoyment from just _being_.

There are no pressures to be found here in the dawning of this new day, no demands—external or otherwise. There’s only you and him and time made slow by this pocket of calm that you’ve created for yourselves.

Tangled up as you are, the simple _“I love you”_ that you murmur results in a chaste brush of lips that easily deepens into a true kiss; Javi’s reply comes in the form of a tongue gently lapping at your own some odd seconds later. The kiss you share is a molten thing—all white-hot, liquid passion that isn’t lessened by your unhurried ministrations. Breaths hitch as hands wander creating a need that can only been soothed by hips’ instinctual canting to an ageless unheard rhythm.

Though you are unwilling to part from each other’s touch for too long, the bottoms that you’d worn to sleep necessitates it. The garments are pulled down and kicked away quickly, and then you’re falling back into your previous position. You hear the familiar **_click_** of a bottle being opened and then a slick hand is exploring your center. Warm, callused fingers work you over with expert precision, while your own strive to do the same for your man. You both lose yourselves to your shared touch, and with every pass over your heated flesh, breathy curses and stuttered sighs are pulled from the pair of you as the crest of your need is driven yet higher.

Words are all but abandoned—they’re not needed, not when your bodies are more than capable of speaking for themselves.

_Harder.  
__More._  
_Yes._  
_Please._

Meaning is found in every slanting of lips, brushing of fingers, rolling of hips.

As you come closer and closer to your end, Javier’s focus tunnels. His free hand digs into the mattress beside your hip to brace himself as he moves to hover over you, while its opposite continues on tirelessly. “Wanna feel you cum, _amor_. Want you to fall apart for me,” he tells you in a voice gone husky with need as he regards you through heavily lidded eyes. “Can you do that, baby? Can you cum for me?” The question sounds even as his pace increases just that little bit more.

All you can do is nod and mewl as your bliss mounts higher and higher until it finally cascades. Pleasure pools out from your core to set you alight as you arch towards your lover, hips still rocking and fingers flexing from where they’ve buried themselves in his inky locks.

Javi greedily sucks down your moans as his hand leaves your middle to rest against your hip, proof of your arousal trailing along your skin as he does. He breaks the kiss some long seconds later with a sigh and a mention of cleaning you up. You mourn the loss of his touch, not least of all because he’s seemingly taken all of the warmth with him, though the feeling of the soft, damp cloth rubbing over your skin does make up for it. Contentment sees you stretching and sighing as he continues in his task, and you earn a laugh-laced kiss for your troubles. When he leaves you this time you burrow into the sheets, comfy and sated, and search for sleep once more; you find it sooner than you expect, its offerings coming in the form an abstract half-dream composed of lights, colors, and mist. When the mattress dips under his weight again you stir just enough to make room, but instead of cuddling in next to you, Javier actually lays on top of you.

Your sleep-slurred hum of confusion is cut off by lips gently brushing the underside of your jaw. “Just lay back _cariño_ , and let me take care of you.”

You have no idea what he means by that until you feel his slicked up fingers prodding at your entrance. He works you open with gentle motions, increasing the pace and number of fingers as your body demands it. It’s only once you’re a moaning, shaky mess underneath him that he finally slips inside of you. You both sigh as he bottoms out, though once his hips start to rock your sounds grow needier. His movements are slow and deliberate, maddeningly so, but you cannot find it in yourself to complain. Life’s daily grind is relentless in its forward march making mornings like this the exception, not the rule, so you always make sure to treasure them for the rare and precious gifts that they are. And so instead of demanding the _more-more-_ **more** that you want, your lips find his to take up their languid dance once more, and the winding of tongues and mingling of breaths add yet another layer of undulation to your movements.

He lays over you once more—chest-to-chest, arms bracketing your own in an effort to keep all of his weight from bearing down on you; a sweet gesture, that, but not what you need right now. You pull him to you and anchor him there with arms and legs both. He chuckles a bit, but other than loosening an arm for leverage, doesn’t try to move.

The sounds of the world coming to its collective wakening slowly start to seep in from your window, but you pay them no mind. Time is a concept beyond anything either of you are willing contemplate right now; you only accept its passage in the form of the labored breaths that become your seconds, the meeting of hips that measure minutes. There’s no reason to heed it, no need to rush anything, not even in the face of your growing need. Hands caress and grip and pull, while hips continue in their sinuous roll and lips collide—all done at a steady pace that does not change even when the end inevitably finds you.

A whispered sigh of names come in tandem as you fall into bliss together. You float in a sea of ecstasy for as long as your nerves will allow it, riding the waves of pleasure until you wash up on the shores of reality once more. There’s no damp cloth this time, only the light scrape of a shirt that is quickly discarded once its use is done. Spent and boneless, it’s only a matter of moments before sleep claims you both. The sun is much higher in the sky than it was last you acknowledged it, and it renders your curtains all but useless as it finds the least parting to slither through. The brilliant slash of light that stretches across your faces goes unnoticed, however.

After all, the sunshine could never hope to permeate the corona of your afterglow.

 

:••:•:·················••:۞:••·················•:•۞•:•·················••:۞:••·················:•:••:

 

###  _Sunshine and Afterglow_  {M!Reader}

This time around translations—well the one, rather—come courtesy of [this tumblr post](https://hmsts.tumblr.com/post/184519902186/spanish-help-for-writers). I can only assume that if OP’s not a native speaker herself, she’s still far more capable/reliable source than our dear friend Google Translate lol.

  * Cariño—Sweetie



 

The sun’s light filters in, pale and gray, through curtains that try and fail to bar its entry into your bedroom. You sigh sleepily as you turn away from the gentle intrusion, cuddling further into the warm embrace that awaits you. Javier hums his contentment as he pulls you in closer, fingers skating along the length of your spine as he does so, though after a few passes he moves up to your nape to massage the skin there. The motion leaves you sighing again as you wrap yourself more fully around his frame; your knee hooks itself over his hip while his leg presses in to rest between your own, and somehow you manage to get an arm free to play with his hair. The pair of you stay like this for several long moments—not exchanging words, but sharing breaths as you take your enjoyment from just _being_.

There are no pressures to be found here in the dawning of this new day, no demands—external or otherwise. There’s only you and him and time made slow by this pocket of calm that you’ve created for yourselves.

Tangled up as you are, the simple _“I love you”_ that you murmur results in a chaste brush of lips that easily deepens into a true kiss; Javi’s reply comes in the form of a tongue gently lapping at your own some odd seconds later. The kiss you share is a molten thing—all white-hot, liquid passion that isn’t lessened by your unhurried ministrations. Breaths hitch as hands wander creating a need that can only been soothed by hips’ instinctual canting to an ageless unheard rhythm.

Though you are unwilling to part from each other’s touch for too long, the bottoms that you’d worn to sleep necessitates it. The garments are pulled down and kicked away quickly, and then you’re falling back into your previous position. You hear the familiar **_click_** of a bottle being opened and then a warm, slick hand is wrapping around you. Your attempts to reciprocate stutter to a stop at the shake of his head and it’s only the soft smile that plays along his full lips that keeps you from questioning him. Said smile turns downright devilish as he pulls you in closer still until he’s able to press your lengths flush together. Though his fingers are long, they’re not up to the task of fully encompassing his own impressive girth as well as yours, but that problem is easily rectified when you bring your hand down to join his. He doesn’t stop you this time, but rather he closes his eyes and loses himself to your shared touch. With every tug of heated flesh, breathy curses and stuttered sighs are pulled from the pair of you as the crest of your need is driven yet higher.

Words are all but abandoned—they’re not needed, not when your bodies are more than capable of speaking for themselves.

_Harder._  
_More._  
_Yes.  
_ _Please._

Meaning is found in every slanting of lips, brushing of fingers, rolling of hips.

As you come closer and closer to your end, Javier’s focus tunnels. He allows his own length to slip out of your shared grasp, and closes his hand more tightly around you. You’re once again waved off as you try to touch him—“Wanna feel you cum, _amor_. Want you to fall apart for me,” he tells you in a voice gone husky with need as he regards you through heavily lidded eyes. “Can you do that, baby? Can you cum for me?” The question sounds even as his pace increases just that little bit more.

All you can do is nod and mewl as your bliss mounts higher and higher until it finally cascades. Pleasure pools out from your core to set you alight as you arch towards your lover, hips still rocking and fingers flexing from where they’ve buried themselves in his inky locks.

Javi greedily sucks down your moans as his hand leaves your middle to rest against your hip, proof of your arousal trailing along your skin as he does. He breaks the kiss some long seconds later with a sigh and a mention of cleaning you up. You mourn the loss of his touch, not least of all because he’s seemingly taken all of the warmth with him, though the feeling of the soft, damp cloth rubbing over your skin does make up for it. Contentment sees you stretching and sighing as he continues in his task, and you earn a laugh-laced kiss for your troubles. When he leaves you this time you burrow into the sheets, comfy and sated, and search for sleep once more; you find it sooner than you expect, its offerings coming in the form an abstract half-dream composed of lights, colors, and mist. When the mattress dips under his weight again you stir just enough to make room, but instead of cuddling in next to you, Javier actually lays on top of you.

Your sleep-slurred hum of confusion is cut off by lips gently brushing the underside of your jaw. “Just lay back _cariño_ , and let me take care of you.”

You have no idea what he means by that until you feel his slicked up fingers prodding at your entrance. He works you open with gentle motions, increasing the pace and number of fingers as your body demands it. It’s only once you’re a moaning, shaky mess underneath him that he finally slips inside of you. You both sigh as he bottoms out, though once his hips start to rock your sounds grow needier. His movements are slow and deliberate, maddeningly so, but you cannot find it in yourself to complain. Life’s daily grind is relentless in its forward march making mornings like this the exception, not the rule, so you always make sure to treasure them for the rare and precious gifts that they are. And so instead of demanding the _more-more- **more**_ that you want, your lips find his to take up their languid dance once more, and the winding of tongues and mingling of breaths add yet another layer of undulation to your movements.

He lays over you—chest-to-chest, arms bracketing your own in an effort to keep all of his weight from bearing down on you; a sweet gesture, that, but not what you need right now. You pull him to you and anchor him there with arms and legs both. He chuckles a bit, but other than loosening an arm for leverage, doesn’t try to move.

The sounds of the world coming to its collective wakening slowly start to seep in from your window, but you pay them no mind. Time is a concept beyond anything either of you are willing contemplate right now; you only accept its passage in the form of the labored breaths that become your seconds, the meeting of hips that measure minutes. There’s no reason to heed it, no need to rush anything, not even in the face of your growing need. Hands caress and grip and pull, while hips continue in their sinuous roll and lips collide—all done at a steady pace that does not change even when the end inevitably finds you.

A whispered sigh of names come in tandem as you fall into bliss together. You float in a sea of ecstasy for as long as your nerves will allow it, riding the waves of pleasure until you wash up on the shores of reality once more. There’s no damp cloth this time, only the light scrape of a shirt that is quickly discarded once its use is done. Spent and boneless, it’s only a matter of moments before sleep claims you both. The sun is much higher in the sky than it was last you acknowledged it, and it renders your curtains all but useless as it finds the least parting to slither through. The brilliant slash of light that stretches across your faces goes unnoticed, however.

After all, the sunshine could never hope to permeate the corona of your afterglow.

**Author's Note:**

> You can also find this collection on my [tumblr.](http://thepuckishrogue.tumblr.com)  
> I'm on there more than I should be, honestly, so if you want to keep up with me and my writing or just wanna chat that's the best way to do so.


End file.
